


Laurels of Blood

by DarthImperius



Series: DarthImperius's Discontinued Stories [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Young Dracula
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Plot Bunny, Story is archived
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-05-21 01:19:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthImperius/pseuds/DarthImperius
Summary: Right before it became a school, Garside Grange was burned to the ground in a freak accident, leading to Count Dracula calling in a favour from an old acquaintance. And as this happens, the young Harry Potter prepares himself for his fourth year at Hogwarts, hoping it will be far more peaceful compared to the previous two.





	1. The New Home

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and the Young Dracula TV series belongs to BBC.

_**Chapter 1 – The New Home** _

**Hogwarts School, Scotland (U.K.)**

It had been quite a while since they had left Stokley Castle, and their old yet temporary life behind. Four years since Ingrid had taken over the castle and made it her own. Four years they took residence at Garside Grange. Three years had passed since then, and just as the count had the idea of converting the building into a school in order to lure in victims, a freak accident had burned the entire building down.

Not wishing to waste another tremendous amount of money, he had call in a few favours from an old acquaintance in order for them to get at least a temporary residence while everything was sorted out.

"I still can't believe you managed to do this," muttered Vlad as he dragged a tall and thin coffin into the small and dark chamber.

"Oh, come on Vladdie. You have too little faith in your father!" said the muffled voice of Count Dracula. "Besides, Albus owed me this one."

"Yeah, well let's hope this one doesn't burn down!"

The moonlight entered through a small, revealing a dark, dusty, and cob-web infested circular room. Vlad had lightened up a torch on the stone wall, giving them a bit more of light. The coffin opened, revealing the awakened form of Count Dracula, now eyeing the premises.

"Well, it's… small," he commented.

"Better than nothing," shrugged Vlad, having now returned to unpacking things.

"True. Now, look at the time!" said the Count, looking at the window. "The perfect hour for hunting! Care to join me Vlad?"

"No father. I'll stay here, and unpack what's left of our things," said the teenager.

The Count huffed, none too pleased about Vlad's passiveness. "Very well... more left for me then."

Instants later, the Count's form had ceased to be human, having become a small bat which quickly flew out of the open window. Vlad could only imagine where he would go, but decided not to dwell on that and began to sort out the things. As he prepared to put his father's coffin on a raised dais, a figure came from downstairs, the colourful robes and white hair and beard making a rather strong contrast with the rest of the room.

"Ah, you must be young Vladimir! A pleasure to meet you," spoke the old man, approaching him and extending his hand in greetings. "I am Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts."

Vladimir had never met Dumbledore before, and he was unsure of what to expect from a wizard. As far as he could tell, the man's fashion sense would be ridiculed by the vampires, and the breathers would find it eccentric as well.

"Hello," he said, shaking the hand. "I'm Vladimir, yes. It's a pleasure as well, headmaster. Thanks, by the way."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Your father and I have quite a history. And I owe him quite a few favours. I couldn't say no to his request."

Vlad nodded, wondering what exactly had happened so long ago that this man, who was apparently the highest ranked of all wizards, now was in debt to his father. For some reason, the Count refused to answer any questions related to that, so he had not pressed.

Much.

Still, he got no answers.

"You have agreed on a few rules, right?" asked Vlad, a bit worried about the fact that they would be living in a castle which also served as a boarding school. "About… that."

Dumbledore's eyes shined through his half-moon glasses, twinkling almost as if he had tiny stars in them.

"Indeed. I also expect you to follow them," said Dumbledore.

"Don't worry. I'm not interested in biting anyone," he admitted. "In fact, I don't even want to drink blood."

For Dumbledore, that was a rather interesting statement.

"Not a very vampiric choice, especially for one who is the closest the vampires have to a king."

Vlad stiffened. How did the wizard know about that? He knew that wizards and the vampires had some sort of treaty between them, but he wasn't so sure about… communication. There was still the matter that they were breathers, and relations between vampires and breathers were not quite… good. Unless the vampires viewed wizards differently.

Dumbledore however, seemed to have a new interest.

"Speaking of your father, where is he?"

Vlad pointed to the window. "It's night and he's a vampire. He's flapping around somewhere."

"Pity. I wanted to speak with him."

"You can catch him in the morning," said Vlad.

Whatever Dumbledore said, he did not hear, as the sound of flapping wings distracted him. His father could not be returning so soon, could he? However, instead of a bat flying into the room through the open window, it had been a white owl, carrying on its beak a sealed envelope.

* * *

**Surrey, England (U.K.)**

Life at Privet Drive was boring.

It was the only conclusion Harry could reach, after having lived there for more than a decade, and having spent the last three years in a magical boarding school. Returning to a magicless world, even if only for a few months, was nothing he was ever eager for. Harry looked at the bright sky outside his small bedroom, nothing peculiar happening either inside the house or outside it.

As walked away from window, he stepped on something cold and hard. On the floor near his bed was an open book on Quidditch, the pictures moving, oblivious to the fact that they were being stepped on. Harry could not help but feel that had these been portraits, the reaction would be quite different. He placed the book on the short bedside table, and decided on returning to finish his summer homework. Snape and McGonagall were usually always tied on who had the hardest of all summer tasks, and this year it was no different. Yet before he could focus himself, a tap on the widow made him look at the source of the intruding noise. It had been a small brown owl, apparently carrying a letter from someone. Harry rushed to the window, opening it, and allowing the bird in. It landed on the drawer, waiting for Harry to take the letter. As soon as the teen had taken the envelope, the owl jumped from the drawer and flew out of the window, likely returning to where it came from.

He recognized the symbol on the envelope. He had received a similar one last year from the Ministry of Magic, although that one had been because of Dobby. Nothing of the sort had happened for the ministry to be writing to him. Well, he wouldn't discover what they wanted by wondering about it. Harry opened the envelope, taking out the letter and silently reading it.

* * *

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_as per the recently enacted Historical Preservation Act, the Wizengamot has decreed that all buildings relevant to the history of the British Wizarding World must be kept in an acceptable enough condition, as to preserve the history of our society. It has come to our attention that you are the current rightful owner of the structure known as Emeth Castle, formerly property of the Fleamont family, currently in disrepair. Due to the historical nature of this structure, it has been placed in the list of properties that need restoration._

_If the property does not undergo restoration, the Historical preservation Act allows the ministry to seize the property lawfully and permanently in order to implement the required measures. To initiate the procedures, please contact the newly created Department of Culture. As you are a minor, these procedures must be done under the supervision and assistance of your guardian in the magical community, which is at the moment Albus Dumbledore._

_Hoping you are well,_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Logan Corbeld_

_Department of Culture_

_Ministry of Magic_

* * *

Well… now that was surprising. And a bit urgent too.

He had no idea that he was owner of a castle, or who the Fleamont family was. It was possible that they were his ancestors, but beyond the name of his parents and those of the members of his maternal side of the family, he knew nothing of his family. He knew from his vault that his parents had been wealthy, but he had no idea that they owned an actual castle. Could it be as large as Hogwarts? Well, it would matter little if it remained in its current state until the end of the year, as the Ministry would seize it. And he dreaded if the Dursleys knew of the fact that he owned an actual castle. As long as it remained on his power, they would go to the grave without even hearing of it.

He had to write to Dumbledore about this. Since the headmaster was apparently his guardian in the wizarding world, then there was no one better to help him solve this, and possibly keep his castle.

It was decided. Now all he needed was a piece of parchment and a quill.

* * *

**Hogwarts School, Scotland (U.K.)**

Vlad blinked at the oddity. Owls delivered the post in the wizarding world?

"Hedwig, what a surprise!"

"You know this owl?" asked Vlad.

"It belongs to a student of mine," said Dumbledore as he approached the bird. "Harry Potter to be precise. Ever heard of him?"

"Should I?"

"The only survivor of a curse that kills its victim as soon as it hits. No spell can protect against it," explained Dumbledore. "His parents were attacked thirteen years ago by a dangerous and powerful dark wizard who called himself Voldemort. James and Lily Potter were killed by him, but Voldemort failed to kill Harry, and was struck by his own curse."

"Wait, so this 'powerful and dangerous' dark wizard was defeated by a baby?" Vlad thought that was simply ridiculous.

"There is no clear answer of how Harry survived, but what happened that night made him a hero to the wizarding world," continued the headmaster. "He became hailed as the Boy-Who-Lived. Not quite fond of the title or the fame, I can assure you. Despises them, in fact."

Vlad supposed he could understand a bit. He was the "Chosen One", the destined leader of the vampires, supposed to lead them to glory, a role which attracted the attention of both other vampires and slayers.

"Oh dear," muttered Dumbledore.

"Something wrong?"

"It seems that the new law passed by the Ministry affects Harry. As his guardian, I must assist him on this matter," he said. Noticing the look on Vlad's face, he clarified the situation. "A law which requires the preservation of historical buildings. Harry is the owner of one. I have to go with to the Ministry to solve this."

Dumbledore had completely forgotten about that fact. Well, he and likely most of Wizarding Britain, since Emeth Castle had not been exactly highlighted since the death of Constance Fleamont many decades ago. Sometimes even he was amazed by what the bureaucracy of the Ministry sometimes dug up from the deep grave that was red tape. It was truly amazing what the Ministry could discover when they wanted something, and in this case it was the properties of wizards unfortunate enough to pay for the repairs.

"Care to join us, Vladimir?" suggested Dumbledore. "You may get better acquainted with this world."

The chance of temporary freedom? He would be an idiot not to take it, considering his home for the next few months would be a castle in the middle of the Scottish Highlands.

"Sure. Beats staying in a castle all day."


	2. Two Wizards and a Vampire

_**Chapter 2 – Two Wizards and a Vampire** _

Night had already fallen on Surrey, and the three Dursleys were sitting in front of the television, leaving the work of cleaning the dishes to Harry. Despite not showing it, Harry took some amusement from not only Dudley's mood, but also the reason for it. A forced diet was basically a living nightmare for Dudley and being unable to persuade his mother otherwise didn't help things.

Unfortunately, he was also a victim of Dudley's new diet. In fact, the entire family was following the diet, much to Vernon's chagrin. Harry was certain that Vernon reflected what Dudley would eventually become, adding a few years into the mix. In time, Petunia would give in to complaints by both Dudley and Vernon, and this diet would be thrown out of the window. Regardless, what worried him was the whole issue with the castle and the ministry. He wondered when Dumbledore would reply to his message, and what his reply would be.

As he washed the dishes, the four heard the doorbell.

"Boy, go see who it is!" barked Vernon.

Harry sighed, wondering who it could be at this time. Putting down the plate, Harry went to the door and opened it, revealing a rather familiar figure.

"Professor Dumbledore! You received my letter?"

"I have indeed," said the headmaster, the stars in his purple robes glinting as if they had been taken from the sky and placed there. "May we come in?"

Harry was confused. "We?"

From behind Dumbledore emerged another figure. Harry could not clearly see their features, but it was certainly a man, shorter than Dumbledore and taller than himself.

"Ah yes, this is Vladimir. I asked him to accompany me this night, for him to get better acquainted with our world."

At Harry's inquisitive look, Dumbledore quickly spoke. "I'll explain inside. May we?"

"Yeah sure, come in," said harry, stepping away from the door, allowing the two to enter. Now that he was seeing Vladimir more closely, he realized that he was likely only a few years older than him.

"Harry Potter, right? The headmaster told be about you," said Vladimir, shaking Harry's hand.

To Harry's surprise, Vladimir's hand was really cold, almost as if he had dipped them in arctic water.

"Yeah, I'm Harry," he replied. "Sorry, in advance."

It was Vlad's turn to be confused. "About what?"

"The Dursleys, my family. They dislike anything not… well, normal."

"You!"

The shriek from Petunia made it known that Dumbledore had already entered the living room. Harry rolled his eyes, going towards Dumbledore, Vlad following him.

"Good evening Petunia," said Albus pleasantly. "I trust I'm not interrupting anything."

"What are you doing here!" she demanded, outraged at Dumbledore's appearance.

"Harry and I have a few things to discuss. I'm afraid I could only come now."

Petunia and Vernon's fury was almost palpable, and Harry turned towards Vlad.

"As you can see."

* * *

With the Dursleys "pacified", the three went upstairs, entering Harry's small room. Vlad looked around, certainly not expecting that the room of the supposed saviour of the wizards was so small and normal-like. Then again, he supposed living with those three would bring little alternative.

"You said you were helping Vladimir get acquainted with our world," said Harry as he closed his bedroom's door. "He's not a wizard?"

"Not quite," said Dumbledore. "Our friend here is a vampire. He and his father are residing at the castle at the moment."

Harry's head nearly snapped towards Vladimir, the coldness of his hand now making a bit more sense. "So that's why you were cold!"

Vlad was a bit apprehensive at Harry's reaction, the younger teen's expression being more of curiosity than fear or disgust. "You don't mind me being a vampire?"

"Not really," shrugged Harry. "One of my dad's best friends was… well, is a werewolf. And he was my teacher last year. So unless you have another head hiding behind yours, then you're okay to me."

The way Harry spoke so casually about werewolves and the fact that one had been a friend of his father was oddly refreshing to Vlad. "Another head?"

"Long story."

"Indeed. So, it seems that the ministry has taken interest in you again," spoke Dumbledore, interrupting their small talk. "Are you aware of what exactly the Historical Preservation Act is, Harry?"

"The letter from the ministry said it was to preserve buildings important to the history of the wizard world."

Dumbledore nodded. "Correct. However, that is only the public explanation. The bill was created so that the ministry could lawfully acquire important buildings from wizards who don't have the means to pay for their repairs."

That was outrageous. "Can they do that?"

"I'm afraid yes. The Wizengamot passed the act, and it is now law. Unfortunately, there is nothing we can do about it at the moment," said Dumbledore. "The opportunity may come in the future to repeal the act."

"And what will happen to the buildings taken by your ministry?" asked Vlad.

"As the Ministry of Magic is also bound by the act, they are required to implement the repairs themselves," answered the headmaster. "This of course, was not part of the original draft, but a later addition made to sway some voters to the 'yes'."

"How much will it cost then?" asked Harry, worried that the costs of the repairs needed to be made to the castle would be above his budget.

Dumbledore replied with another question.

"You wish to keep the castle?"

"It's one of the few things I have from my family."

Dumbledore nodded, understanding Harry's reasoning, and so did Vlad. "It depends on who you hire. But so does the quality of the repairs. However, taking into consideration you family's wealth, it won't be a problem to you."

Harry was not too convinced. He remembered quite well the amount of money he had inside his vault, and it seemed that it would not be enough for the repairs.

"I don't think what I have is enough for that."

"I suppose you are thinking about your vault at Gringotts, yes?" At Harry's nod, Dumbledore continued. "As your magical guardian, I took the liberty to transfer a small quantity of money from your family's main vault to one created specially for your use while a student of Hogwarts, restricting your access to the family vault only for emergencies until you come of age. I was afraid that being exposed to such a large amount of money would have negative consequences for you, and the money too."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the revelation. He had no idea that his vault was merely his, not having all the money of his family. Then again, he supposed that Dumbledore was on the right track when he did that. He remembered quite well his temptations during his first visit to Diagon Alley with Hagrid, and all the amazing things he wanted to buy. In retrospective, most of them would have been useless to him then, and now as well.

"Oh."

Dumbledore smiled at Harry's response.

"Know anything about why the Ministry considers it a historical site?"

Harry shook his head.

"Before the family died out, the Fleamonts were a rather wealthy clan, known to be quite eccentric by most wizard circles. It's from them that most of the Potter fortune comes from. Your grandfather added quite a bit to it with his hair potions."

Harry had no idea that his grandfather was a potioneer. In fact, he could not see any Potter having anything to do with potions, and he had to blame Snape for that.

"How eccentric?" asked Vlad curious.

"I suppose that the Fleamonts could be best described as xenophilic. They were enamoured with everything magical and non-magical. Common animals, muggles, puffskeins, dugbogs, centaurs, werewolves, ghosts, poltergeists, house elves, goblins… anything really. And they were famous for the gardens of the castle, which held a small zoological garden which many wizards liked to visit," said Dumbledore. "They also threw parties whose guests included, wizards, goblins, centaurs, vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and even hags."

"No wonder they were considered eccentric," muttered Harry.

"Wait a minute, I think my father mentioned something about that," said Vlad. "I think he spoke of a going to party organized by a Fleamont once. He said something about a blood fondue."

"It is possible that the Count may have known some of your ancestors Harry. Truly an amazing coincidence," remarked Dumbledore. "And before we lose track of time, we should head to Diagon Alley as soon as possible. They'll close soon."

"Diagon Alley? I thought we were going to the Ministry," said Harry.

"We are. The offices of the Department of Culture are in Diagon Alley. No space left in the ministry's building."

"How will we get there?" asked Harry.

He could be wrong, but the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes told him that he would not like it.

* * *

**Diagon Alley, London, England (U.K.)**

He wasn't wrong.

He didn't like it at all. And neither did Vlad, apparently.

"What was that?" near-hissed the vampire, not caring about his new surroundings. "I feel like I was squeezed through a tube!"

"Apparition," explained Dumbledore. "A useful, although uncommon method of transportation. When you are seventeen, you'll be able to receive your licence to apparate."

"You need a licence for that?"

Harry was surprised by this. So apparition was essentially the wizard equivalent of driving a car.

"It is dangerous and sometimes unpredictable. It is not unheard of a wizard splinching himself when apparating."

"Splinching?"

"Separation of body parts."

If Harry was not sick already, then would have been. Instead, he decided to look at the alley, and so did Vlad, the vampire having recovered from the unpleasant aftereffects of apparition. There were very few people there, especially now that night had fallen. Most of the stores were closed, some closing, and a minority still open. He supposed that wizard nightlife was not exciting. Then again, this provided him a new insight in the society of wizards. As far as he knew, vampires had nothing like this. Sure, they had a newspaper and some furniture stores, but nothing beyond that. Perhaps when he became the Grand High Vampire next year, he would try to create something like Diagon Alley for vampires.

Dumbledore led them to a small building near Gringotts, opening the door for the two. The two teenagers entered a small reception room, a woman sitting on a desk with a bored expression on her face, who quickly took an expression of amazement at who had entered the building.

"Harry Potter! And Professor Dumbledore!"

"Good evening Miss Rouse," said the headmaster, recognizing his former student. "We are due to the new act."

"You and everyone else Professor," said the woman. "You came at a good time. No one in line for a meeting. Go in through the left door and enter the office at the end of the corridor."

Dumbledore nodded. "Many thanks."

The three followed the receptionist's directions and entered the office. It was small, the walls white with a lower wooden segment. There was little decoration inside, giving it the office a temporary feel.

"Professor Dumbledore, welcome!" said the man behind the desk, who then noticed who accompanied the professor. "And Harry Potter too. I suppose you are here because of Emeth Castle? And who is…?"

The man's eyes had turned towards Vlad.

"A friend," Harry quickly said. "And yes, we're here because of the castle."

"Very well, sit down then, and I'll try to make this as quick as possible."

The three sat down, and Harry noticed a small wooden plaque on the table, the name Logan Corbeld engraved there in golden letters.

In truth, most of what happened next was lost to Harry, as Corbeld spoke mostly in ministerial jargon, and he could understand little of it. Dumbledore, on the other hand, seemed to understand perfectly what the man said. And just like Harry, Vlad was lost in the near-political talk of the man, using terms he had never heard before in any conversation. Several minutes later, the three left the office, the whole mess having been taken care of. Dumbledore had arranged the repairs of the castle, and in a few months, Harry would have a new home for himself.

That is, when he no longer needed to live with the Dursleys.

"So, Vladimir, what are your thoughts on the wizarding world, from what you saw?" asked Dumbledore.

"You're very organized. More than we are, to be honest. I wasn't expecting any of this."

"Wait until you see Quidditch," said Harry.

And that was another word to add to the list of "strange wizard words" he had heard today.

"It's a sport we play on brooms."

"I'm afraid that unless young Vladimir goes to the world cup, he will have little opportunity to see Quidditch this year."

"Oh, why? Do you burn in sunlight?"

"Vampires do burn in sunlight Harry, but that's not the reason. I can only say that this year there will be no Quidditch at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore

The near-heartbroken look on Harry's face almost made Vlad laugh.

"What? Why?"

"It's a secret I'm afraid. You'll have to wait until the school year starts."

There was something in Dumbledore's tone that made it sound as if something better than Quidditch would be happening, and despite the sudden revelation of a year without playing Quidditch, Harry felt like a small kid who was eagerly waiting to open a present, only to be constantly reminded that the time hadn't come yet.

Suspense was something good in fiction. Not so much in real-life.


	3. The Last Match

_**Chapter 3 – The Last Match** _

Beyond meeting a vampire, the only "exciting" thing that had happened to Harry since then was the dream he had about Voldemort and Wormtail. Quite a few weeks had passed since Harry had gone with Dumbledore and Vladimir to the office at Diagon Alley, and in time came the invitation from the Weasleys to spend the rest of the summer with them, and to go to the Quidditch World Cup with them as well. Their method of arrival at Privet Drive however, was not exactly practical in hindsight. On the other hand, their arrival at the Quidditch camp was practical but unpleasant.

Portkeys and apparition were two things Harry could go without if he had the choice.

"Harry, could you pass me that pan?"

The voice of Mr. Weasley brought him back from his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley. What did you say?"

Artur pointed at the pan. "The pan, Harry."

Harry looked at it, and his eyebrows went up in understanding.

"Oh, right…"

He grabbed the pan, handing it to Mr. Weasley, who then thanked him, before staring into the distance once more, not focusing on any specific thing. Night had fallen on the camp, and it would be only one hour and half before the game began. Harry could already imagine this as his only experience with Quidditch for the next months, considering that Dumbledore himself had told him that there would be no Quidditch at Hogwarts. He let himself relax, staring into the growing flames of the small campfire that, through what had likely been dumb luck, Mr. Weasley had managed to create. A lifetime using magic culminated in very low survival chances if a wizard was deprived of it and put in a risky situation.

There were shouts and singing coming from every location, the excitement for the confrontation between Bulgaria and Ireland's teams building up like a balloon nearly ready to be popped, unleashing the chaos that was to be expected at an international event such as the Quidditch World Cup. However, from the loud noise and shouts that he heard coming from inside the tent, its seemed that the excitement was not only outside.

"Merlin's beard, what are they up to?" groaned Mr. Weasley as he rushed into the tent.

"Must be the twins," muttered Harry

He could already hear arguing inside the tent, but he made no move to go and check what it was. It was best he didn't get involved at all. If he was lucky, then this day would end without either drama or violence. Considering he was in the middle of thousands of Quidditch fans, each supporting their own teams and with diverging tempers, then he could simply dream on.

"Hello Harry."

And of course, had he no control over his bowels, then he would have likely shat himself right there. Instead, a jolt of surprise sufficed as he turned around to see who had scared him out of his wits.

"Vladimir! What are you doing here?"

The vampire was crouching, his position behind the rock in which Harry sat indicating the scare had been deliberate. The paleness of his face was further shown by the burning fire near them, and the impish smile on Vladimir's face made it clear that the older teen had enjoyed himself.

"Call me Vlad. Vladimir's a mouthful," said the vampire. "I'm here for that Quidditch thing."

"You are?"

A bit of a stupid question, Harry though. Why else would Vladimir be here?

"Your headmaster gave me his ticket. Said that I would make better use of it than he would. Father wasn't particularly excited about me going here, but he changed his mind when he got the idea that I would bite someone in here."

"Dumbledore mentioned your father before. So he's a vampire too?"

"Yep," said Vlad, his tone now irredeemably sardonic. "The famous and mighty Count-"

Whatever Vlad was about to say was interrupted by Mr. Weasley's sudden arrival from within the tent. "Well, that's sorted," he said, before noticing Vlad. "Harry, who's…?"

"Vlad Count," said Vlad, not wanting to attract unwanted attention by using his real name.

"He's a friend of mine," said Harry.

Mr. Weasley's expression relaxed immediately, and immediately went to give Vlad his hand to shake. "Arthur Weasley," he introduced himself, not noticing how cold Vlad's hand was. "A pleasure."

"Likewise," replied Vlad.

The Weasley patriarch had gone back to being entertained by the campfire, allowing Harry and Vlad to resume their conversation.

"You were saying?"

Vlad cleared his throat, returning to his previous expression and tone, although his voice was a bit lower, which Harry suspected to be because of Mr. Weasley.

"The famous and mighty Count Dracula."

Vlad was almost expecting thunder and lightning to accompany that phrase, but alas, none came. Harry however seemed to have been hit by something in the face, although that quickly shifted to a thoughtful and awed expression.

"You mean… _the_ Count Dracula?" he asked in a near whisper.

"The one and only."

Vlad was a bit stunned when Harry stood up and turned to him. "I'll be right back," he said, quickly entering the tent, and leaving the vampire wondering what exactly he was going to do. His answer quickly came when Harry returned with a book in his hand.

"What's that?" Vlad asked.

"My Folio Universitas," answered Harry, already searching for something in the book. "It's where I put my Chocolate Frog Cards… Where was it?... Ah, here it is!"

Vlad watched as Harry took one of the odd shaped card and handed it to him. He took it and looked at the card, nearly chocking on his own saliva when he saw the image. There it was, the image of his father, sporting both a goatee and moustache, wearing clothes he had only seen once in a breather portrait. He supposed that he should not be surprised that these images could move, but what made him laugh was the pose of his father on the card.

"Yeah… that's dad," he said with amusement in his voice, turning around the card to see what was on the back. "Except that's wrong."

"Huh? What is?" asked Harry, leaning over to see.

"Dad's not the father of Vlad the Impaler," said the vampire. "He _is_ Vlad the Impaler. Pretended to be his own son so that he could continue to rule over the breathers back in Romania."

"Breathers?"

Vlad handed the card back to Harry. "Non-vampires, humans, mortals."

"So it's the vampire version of 'muggle', I suppose."

"Muggle?"

"Non-magical folk."

Vlad made a noise that indicated understanding, and the attention of the two was shifted from the Chocolate Cards to the newcomers from within the tent. The figures of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were immediately recognized by Harry, and it seemed that they had been looking for him.

"Harry there you- who's that?"

Hermione's sentence quickly shifted in less than a second, both Ron and her seeing Harry siting down next to a stranger with what they recognized as Harry's Folio Universitas.

"This is Vlad," Harry said, hoping that Hermione or Ron would have the same passiveness as Mr. Weasley. "He's a friend."

Neither Ron nor Hermione missed the fact that Harry had a previously unknown friend, and it became evident that the tension was becoming palpable. To Ron and Hermione, the strangest part was not that Harry apparently had a friend older than the three, but that he had shown his Folio Universitas to him. That book was perhaps one of the most prized possessions of Harry, who never allowed anyone to either see it or touch it. It had gone to the point where Harry hid it by covering the book with the Invisibility Cloak, which proved to be rather effective, as eventually not only Ron, but also Seamus and Dean stopped trying to peek into its pages. To Harry however, it had been a necessary measure when one of Dean's cards mysteriously disappeared during Third Year, while Seamus mysteriously got the very same card that Dean lost. He had no intention of letting his collection be stolen.

On Harry's side however, he did his best to keep things calm between the three and began to ask what Ron and Hermione wanted. The answer was trivial, the two having been wondering why Harry wasn't inside, to which Harry answered that he had been waiting for Vlad. Of course, both he and Vlad knew that this was a lie, but he had to manipulate the situation as best as he could – to keep things simple and ordinary. Breaking the ice between Vlad and the other two would be a great step.

"So, when did you two meet?" asked Ron suspicious.

"A while ago. Dumbledore introduced Vlad to me," said Harry, telling them what they needed to know. "His father is Dumbledore's research partner."

The mention of Vlad's father as Dumbledore's research partner seemed to make the two relax, making Harry mentally sigh with relief. It seemed that the mere association of Dumbledore with something or someone was good enough for his friends to accept it.

However, the mention of research had Hermione immediately interested.

"Really? What do they search then?"

And bam – the ice was broken.

"The undead," lied Harry. "At least that's what I got from Dumbledore."

Ron and Hermione grimaced at the thought of the living dead, their thoughts drifting to images of rotting corpses and revenants controlled by voodoo witches. Yet this was not known to Harry and Vlad, who saw the grimace as yet another reason to keep Vlad's vampiric nature in secret. Despite this, the tension seemed to have been broken, and not soon enough came the time for all to head to the stadium.

As they all walked, Vlad took in the "wizardness" that surrounded him. Vampires spent essentially all their lives hidden except when they would go out to hunt, and that had been his only experience of the supernatural. But here he was now, surrounded by thousands of human wizards, all excited to see two national teams dispute a world cup. It was undoubtably strange, yes. Yet it was also so… normal. Unless it involved a "see who gets to bite more breathers in a single night" competition, vampires would do nothing of this sort. The cheering, chanting, laughter, and Harry grinning like he was some sort of maniac also helped Vlad to relax into the atmosphere.

And a shadow was cast upon them – they had reached the stadium, and Vlad could not help but gape at it, and so did Harry. Mr. Weasley had taken the time to tell them that the stadium supported a hundred thousand people, and how five hundred ministry wizards had been working on it all year. Having a prime ticket meant that they would not be separated during the game, and the now larger group made its way to the top box. Now inside of the stadium, they could clearly see how large it was, and how many people were inside.

As they reached the seats, the group made sure to sit on the front row, Vlad taking a seat to the left of Harry. Yet before they sat down, he noticed that Harry, whose wand was on the back pockets of his pants, was about to sit on it.

"Harry, your wand!" warned the vampire.

As if sensation had returned to his lower parts, Harry jolted away from the chair as he was about to sit on it. Taking the wand from his back pocket, he sat down, deciding that it would be best to keep it in his hands for now.

"Thanks!" he whispered to Vlad.

"No problem," said Vlad, who then had a thoughtful look on his face. "Say Harry, care to explain to be how exactly this Quidditch thing works?"

Harry eagerly began to explain to Vlad the basics of Quidditch, and quite a little more. The fact that it was played on brooms amused the vampire a lot, as it basically intensified the old stereotype of flying witches. On the other hand, vampires also fit many of the stereotypes associated with them.

Eventually came the other guests of the Top Box, amongst these Cornelius Fudge, the British Minister for Magic, who wasted no time in trying to introduce Harry to the foreign ministers. And while the pleasantries were exchanged, anything that came after the arrival of the Malfoys was artificial. From the way the Malfoys and the Weasley group interacted, the vampire could see that there was bad blood between them.

"Who are they?"

"The Malfoys," answered Harry in a whisper and clear bitterness in his voice. "They boast to have pure-blood and consider all wizards with muggle relations to be inferior."

Vlad knew quite a few individuals who would love to see if the blood of the Malfoys was indeed pure.

* * *

In theory, Quidditch seemed to be boring, but in practice it was different, Vlad had learned. He could see why Harry loved the sport, and had he grown amongst wizards, he would likely have the same excitement for it as Harry did. He wasn't supporting any team in particular and was just enjoying the thrill of the battle for the Quaffle and the seekers trying to find the Snitch.

It did not take long for the game to devolve into violence, or at least part of it, as while the players continued the game high in the air, their mascots and wizards from the British ministry were involved in some sort of pseudo-skirmish. There were now two grand events happening – the Quidditch match, and the "Mascot War" below it. In time the two came to an end, as the seeker of the Bulgarian team caught the Snitch, yet lost by ten points.

As the match ended, the stadium was systematically emptied, the wizards either returning home or to the campsite. Having quite a few hours until dawn, Vlad accompanied Harry and his group to their camp.

"You were right Harry," declared the vampire.

Harry glanced at him, confused. "About what?"

"Quidditch."

Harry simply grinned as they continued to walk towards the tent. What followed gave Vlad a closer understanding of how wizard society worked. The bantering, the arguments about the match, and even Ginny Weasley falling asleep and dropping her mug of hot chocolate on the floor made him conclude that wizards were very unlike vampires, in that they at least could function in a normal society, despite the occasional oddities. He remembered quite well the man in a woman's sleeping gown when he had arrived at the campsite. Amusing, but disturbing.

The younger ones had been told to go to bed, Harry included amongst them, leaving Mr. Weasley and his older sons there awake. Yet before they could engage in any conversation, Vlad's heightened senses began to pick something up.

"Can you hear that?" he asked.

Arthur looked at him. "Hear what?"

"Screaming, outside. The panicking kind."

Arthur was doubtful, yet he still went outside to check Vlad's claims. Moments later, he had returned, a panicked look on his face.

"Get up!" Vlad could hear the Weasley patriarch say.

He realized that the screams had now become louder, which meant they were approaching their area. Arthur had already gone and collected all the teenagers, hurrying them out of the tent. Vlad could see the source of these screams, as drunken laughter and yells revealed their position. Yet he could not see them, as they were robed and masked. In the confusion, they had been sent into the woods, Vlad going with Harry.

Through the woods, and past a few unwanted encounters, they came upon an empty clearing, deciding to rest there. Alas, this rest was short.

" _MORSMORDRE_!"

It was as if a green sun had begun to illuminate the woods, yet instead of a big ball of gas, it was a gigantic and spectral skull, with a snake emerging from its mouth. When Hermione said that it was called the Dark Mark, and how it was the sign of someone she called You-Know-Who, he began to have suspicions that something was terribly wrong. Of course, in turn the giant skull "summoned" a group of wizards to their location, all eager to know if they had been the one to summon the mark.

It all culminated in the discovery of a house-elf with the wand of a wizard which had been used to summon the mark, followed by what Vlad could describe as the elf being fired. It seemed that the mark had scared away the rioters, allowing them to return to the tent, followed by a rather enlightening conversation, not just for Vlad, but also for Harry as well.

"The terror it inspired… you have no idea, you're too young," said Mr. Weasley, explaining why people had been terrified of the Dark Mark and its association with Voldemort. "Just picture coming home, finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house and knowing what you're about to find inside. Everyone's worst fear… the very worst…"

And then he learned the name of the rioters – the Death Eaters. The followers of Voldemort, or as the Weasleys referred to him, You-Know-Who. Followers of a man who had been apparently defeated by Harry when he was a baby and were essentially a wizard terrorist group. But the conversation soon ended, the wizards being exhausted. As they prepared for bed, Harry accompanied Vlad outside, the vampire leaving for Hogwarts.

"Well… that was exciting," said Harry.

"Exciting isn't the word I would choose," replied Vlad. "Thanks by the way. Although I'm not sure lying to your friends was a good idea."

"What they don't know won't hurt them," declared Harry, keeping his voice low to avoid unwanted eavesdroppers. "Besides, you saw their reaction to the word 'undead'. I'm not sure they would react well to you being a vampire."

Vlad frowned, but smiled nearly immediately. It was an odd and strangely refreshing sensation to have his true nature known and kept secret by a non-vampire again. He was quickly reminded of Robin, and his smile quickly fell as he felt a pang of guilt at having mindwiped his old and first friend. This change of mood was noticed by Harry, who looked at the older teen with worry.

"You're okay Vlad?" he asked.

"Yeah, I just… remembered something. Nothing important."

A lie if he ever heard one.

Harry wasn't sure if he should believe the vampire but decided to not press Vlad. If the other wanted to tell him, then he would do it on his own. The two said their goodbyes, and Harry watched as Vlad activated a portkey given to him by Dumbledore, the vampire disappearing like a visible gust of wind collapsing on itself.

* * *

The privileges of Dumbledore's status as headmaster seemed to carry on to objects enchanted by him, as the portkey dropped him right on the entrance courtyard of the castle. He hadn't to walk much inside the castle before reaching the entrance to the formerly unused tower that Dumbledore had placed at their disposal, a portrait in a corridor filled with many protecting and hiding the entrance.

"Vovoide."

The password spoken, the portrait moved aside, revealing the wide hole, allowing Vlad passage into the tower, the portrait closing behind him. A snap of fingers lit up the torches, allowing him to go up the stairs. At this time his father must be out hunting, and Renfield was likely asleep so he didn't want to make too much noise.

As he climbed the spiral staircase towards the section which was converted into his bedroom, Vlad felt a gust of wind coming from the storage room. Someone, either his father or Renfield, had left the window opened. Sighing, he went to the small window, closing it shut and stopping the slight breeze. Yet as he walked towards the staircase, Vlad noticed something on the corner of his eye.

In the other side of the circular room and against the wall was the Blood Mirror, partially covered by a large red sheet, likely caused by the opened window. Shaking his head, Vlad went towards it, grabbing the fallen part of the sheet before covering the rest of the mirror with it. His work done, Vlad went to his bedroom, passing by the living room to see if the window was open there, as his father needed a way to enter, the light of the torches extinguished by another snap of fingers.

Yet in the darkness of the night and only illuminated by the pale moonlight, the red sheet of the Blood Mirror fell down, revealing the glinting surface of the mirror, and a pair of equally glinting eyes beyond it. There was a sound of echoing footsteps, which could have been mistaken for a broken grandfather clock, before they settled, the wood floor creaking as the intruding feet of a figure whose body the mirror refused to reflect.

Pale skin and blue eyes glowed eerily in the moonlight, and the slightly open mouth revealed the teeth, white as bones, and with a double set of sharp fangs. Glancing at the storage's entrance, the figure walked slowly towards it, looking at the faint light coming from Vlad's room. He then smirked, chuckling to himself while feeling the pulsing background magic of the castle flowing through him like blood.

"Game on, Vlad."


	4. Walking Shadow

_**Chapter 4 – Walking Shadow** _

The aftermath of the Quidditch World Cup had not been pleasant for the Ministry, Harry could tell. The damages caused by the rioting Death Eaters and the articles published by Rita Skeeter had caused a nightmare for the Ministry of Magic, one which Mr. Weasley had experienced personally.

But Harry was not involved with any of that, and at Hogwarts, those events were mere fuel for talk and rumours. Now, the first years had been sorted, the feast had ended, and Dumbledore was at the podium, ready to give his speech.

"Welcome, to another year at Hogwarts!" said Dumbledore. "Now that we're all fed and watered, I must ask once more for your attention, while I give out a few notices."

What followed was the usual warnings about Filch's list of forbidden objects and how the Forbidden Forest was out of bounds for all students. Not that it stopped some from going there, thought Harry.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

And there it was. The announcement that Harry knew would come. Now if Dumbledore could only reveal why it there would be no Quidditch this year…

"This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and will continue throughout the school year, taking much of the teachers' time and energy," continued Dumbledore. "But I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts – "

Whatever Dumbledore would say was halted by an unexpected arrival at the Great Hall, a man in a black cloak, with a long and grizzled dark grey hair, and far more scars than someone should have on their face. And there was also the eyes, or at least one of them – large as a coin and of a vivid blue, moving around independently from the other eye in ways that a normal eye could not.

The man approached Dumbledore, and after a brief and quite conversation, the headmaster finally spoke.

"May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher – Professor Moody."

After a few moments, as Moody joined the other teachers at the staff table, Dumbledore resumed his previous speech.

"As I was saying, this year Hogwarts shall be host to the Triwizard Tournament."

That had gotten many students excited, especially Fred and George. On the other hand, Harry had no idea what the Triwizard Tournament was. Dumbledore was kind enough to rectify that, as he began to explain what exactly the tournament was, and exactly why it had been discontinued. Two other schools would be participating – Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, and Harry wondered what their students would look like.

Soon enough, the speech bout the tournament ended, but Dumbledore was not over yet.

"And before I forget, I would like to introduce you to a guest we shall have at Hogwarts this year," said Dumbledore, and Harry could already tell who it was supposed to be. In the corner of the staff table, oddly shrouded by shadows, was a figure which Harry could almost bet was Count Dracula. He had to bet Dumbledore would not present him at that, to prevent panic from the younger and more prejudiced students – the mess with Lupin last year told him that wizards were a nasty bunch in that regard. "May I introduce you to my research colleague, Professor Count."

The vampire rose briefly, allowing the students to observe him, before sitting down again. From such a distance, Harry couldn't see the man very well, but he wasn't bothered about it. However, only the Count was there.

Where exactly was Vlad?

* * *

Vlad looked out of one of the tiny windows of his room, the sound of rain, wind, and thunder a good reason to not get out of the castle this night. Even his father had made a sensible choice this day and would remain in the castle. Not to mention that there would be no breathers outside with this weather – all would likely be inside their homes, and since a vampire could not enter a home uninvited… then the Count was out of luck.

Oddly enough, he also felt rather strange. He couldn't put his finger on the why of it, but he felt a bit… exhausted, weak even. Vlad was sure his father would claim it was due to not drinking actual blood, but he would have none of it.

He had to find the reason for this sudden tiredness. But for now, he would rest a bit… yes, that was a good idea.

* * *

Curious eyes looked at the mass of students that scrambled towards wherever they wanted to go, their owner unobserved by either student, portrait, or ghost. Yet even if they wanted to, they would not be able to see.

" _Breathers_ …" was the thought that ran through the figure's mind.

True that they were unlike other humans, and many were capable of matching lesser vampires in battle, but they were still breathers – a bunch of walking blood bags. Unfortunately, unlike the breathers and the two idiots in that tower, he was not tangible. Attempting to bite anyone would simply make them feel strange, nothing more.

Yet this castle was proving to be a rather interesting place. There was magic in the air – in fact the entire castle was saturated in magic, and if he was right, it had been what allowed him to leave the Blood Mirror. The feeling of this power coursing through his body was intoxicating, and it appeared to slowly grow by the hour. He knew it to be certain that he was more than the reflection of Ingrid when it escaped the mirror to chase her. But he would not chase Vlad… his sights were on someone else. Instead, it would be Vlad who would chase after him when the time came… if everything went according to plan, that is. And when he was strong enough, then he would properly strike.

He turned to look when he heard the voice of his target – Harry Potter. The saviour of the wizarding world was perfect for his plan, and his recently developing relationship with Vlad would make everything easier. The wizard knew not, but he had already latched onto him, and considering Vlad and Harry's schedules, then chances of the two meeting was very low, which was perfect.

"Harry!" he called out, his voice only heard by the wizard in question.

The reflection watched as Harry turned to him, noticing his presence and beckoning towards a narrow and empty corridor, before turning to his breather friends, telling them that he would join them later. The disgruntled expressions of acceptance of their faces pleased him greatly, and he watched as Harry approached him.

"Vlad!" said Harry as he went into the corridor, hidden from the other students view. "I thought you couldn't go out in the day?"

The mirror-Vlad simply smiled, looking at Harry with a somewhat mischievous expression. "I have my ways. Explored the castle before your classes began."

No lie there. He had indeed explored the castle, needing to know its layout to better implement his plan.

"So, how do you find Hogwarts?" asked Harry, a bit excited at knowing the vampire's opinion.

How did he find Hogwarts? Truth be told, the castle was rather amazing, and he had never seen anything like it. The dungeons were especially alluring… and would be useful had they been in use for something other than teaching how to brew potions and to hide the entrance to a common room.

"It's awesome. Most castles I've been in were small compared to this one."

"You've been in other castles?"

Mirror-Vlad nodded. "Lived in one back in Transylvania, and in another here in England."

"Vlad, England's down there," corrected Harry. "This is Scotland."

The reflection shrugged, the distinction not mattering to him. Harry rolled his eyes at the vampire's reaction, before his expression suddenly changed.

"Bugger! Sorry Vlad, but I need to go. I'm having Care of Magical Creatures next and I can't arrive late."

The frown of the reflection was greater in his mind. He had to continue this later. "How about we meet later? There's an abandoned classroom on the fourth floor we can use to meet."

He could nearly see the gears turning in Harry's mind as the wizard thought about it.

"I think I know the one you're talking about," Harry said, thinking the vampire was referring to the one in which the Mirror of Erised had been stored back in his first year at Hogwarts. "Sure. At what time though?"

Mirror-Vlad pretended to ponder for a moment before answering.

"Around dusk," he answered. "Before dinner."

"Sure!"

The eagerness in Harry's voice and face made Mirror-Vlad smile.

This was just too easy.

* * *

To Harry, the first day at Hogwarts was rather eventful. It was not having to collect pus from Bubotubers, or having to hear Trelawney's "predictions", or even Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts. Instead, it was the sight of Malfoy being transfigured into a ferret by Professor Moody after he had tried to curse him behind his back. In Ron's own words, it had been hilarious to see "Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret" in action.

Sadly, McGonagall stopped the fun, but at least he could replay the memory in his mind whenever he wanted.

"What's got you so happy?"

Harry nearly jumped at the voice, knowing it was the second time it happened. Right next to him was Vlad, looking at him with curiosity. Harry noticed that the vampire was oddly pale, but he supposed it was normal for someone who was technically dead and could not go out during the day.

"Someone got turned into a ferret," said Harry, glancing at Vlad who moved to sit down in a chair in front of him. "Served him right."

"Oh? Who did?"

"Malfoy. Remember him from the World Cup?"

The vampire nodded. "The blond kid, right?"

"Yep. A ponce, that's what he is," said Harry, who had begun to roam around the room, almost as if he was trying to find something. The reflection watched silently as Harry walked, looking at the floor, and wondered what exactly he was trying to do.

"Harry?"

"I've been here before, you know," Harry said, now staring at a wall as if there was something there. "During my first year. There was a mirror in the room, right in front of me. It could show me what I desired most."

The reflection knew what he desired most, but perhaps it was a good time to pry into Harry's personal life. "What did you desire most? If you don't mind me asking, that is?"

Harry sighed. "No, it's okay. I saw me with my family."

"You lived with the breathers, right?"

"The Dursleys," Harry answered, his voice quite bitter. "Hate magic and everything associated with it. Only took me in because of some sort of protection. At least is what Dumbledore told me."

"So, you don't like it there," it was no question, but a statement.

"You think? Until my second year here in Hogwarts, my bedroom was a cupboard under the stairs," replied the wizard. "Hogwarts became my first true home, and where I made my first friends."

Mirror-Vlad couldn't help but find it funny that Harry's situation was a reversed version of that of Vlad. While Vlad had only made his first friends after moving to a normal neighbourhood, Harry had only done so after entering a magic school.

"What did they do to you? The Dursleys?"

"Until I came to Hogwarts, I knew nothing about magic. I thought my parents had died in a car crash, and that I had this scar because of it," Harry said, pointing at it. "I was usually punished whenever anything strange happened. Got locked in the cupboard and would have no meals."

That was… hilarious. Of course, he could not say that to the wizard.

"That's horrible," said Mirror-Vlad. "And they got away with it?"

Harry simply shrugged. "They're tolerable."

"Tolerable?"

That was not the word he would use. Had he been in Harry's shoes, then these Dursleys would have been long dead.

"It's sick, Harry. It's child abuse. They should have been reported to the authorities by now."

Another shrug, and Mirror-Vlad sighed.

"You never told anyone about them?"

"Ron and his brothers know."

"And they never told anyone?

The vague answer left Mirror-Vlad pondering on how to proceed. Harry Potter seemed to have had not a pleasant childhood, and beyond his rumoured exploits at Hogwarts and the fact that he played that Quidditch game, he seemed to be rather mellow. It took him little time to realize that Harry relied quite a lot on those friends of his. He had to make sure they were separated. It was rather convenient that reflections such as he could influence the thoughts of breathers.

The two continued to talk for quite a while, but dinner time eventually came, and the reflection watched as Harry left the classroom, leaving shortly afterwards in order to put the next phase of his plan into action.

* * *

The next day went by quite normally for Harry, but he quickly realized that something was different. Something had changed in Gryffindor, and Harry was certain of it. Ron and Hermione had changed in their behaviour, and he wasn't sure why. Out of nowhere, Ron had decided to join the chess club of Hogwarts, and now would spend most of his free time in chess matches and things of the sort, leaving him with no time for Harry and Hermione. On the other hand, Hermione had suddenly acquired a newfound love for the library, and was constantly inside, reading all books she could, and reading those she already read before again, leaving her with no time for either Harry or Ron.

Sure, his friends were free to do what they wanted with their time, but it still felt odd. He wasn't used to be this alone, and he was not as integrated with the rest of Gryffindor to spend time with them, even with Dean, Seamus, or Neville. It would feel odd and forced. The only other people he knew from Gryffindor were his fellow Quidditch players, and they too had their own lives.

What was he supposed to do then? Roam around Hogwarts in search of lost Chocolate Frog Cards, or perhaps climb the Owlery to pass time?

" _No, no, that's just stupid…"_

But he really needed to find something to do before he went insane with idleness.

* * *

In the opening which led to the staircase of the boys' dormitories, the reflection watched as Harry left the common room, and smirked at his victory. He had succeeded in isolating the breather from his friends, and now all he had to do was to make the isolation permanent.

It had to be done in such a way that Harry would wish to never return to the other breathers, or vice-versa. Either way, it would make him more vulnerable to suggestion. Unfortunately, he had now reached a dead end. He needed to find a perfect and malleable situation so that he could achieve his goals… but what?

He needed to find something soon, or he would have to resort to drastic measures. Whatever they could be.


	5. Fruition

_**Chapter 5 – Fruition** _

Avada Kedavra.

Those were two words that Harry hoped to never hear again during his life. Knowing his luck, it would be unlikely that it would happen. It was a disturbing way to start the year, seeing a spider getting killed in the same way his parents had been many years ago. The pale and sickly green light which had ended the spider's life was the same he saw so many times in his dreams, and know he knew exactly what it was.

It was also the same curse that had hit him and gave him that troublesome scar.

"You seem upset."

Harry stopped in his tracks, walking alone in the hallways of Hogwarts. Perhaps he would eventually get used to the sudden appearances of Vlad, but it wouldn't be that soon.

"It's nothing," said Harry, his voice betraying his words.

"Doesn't seem like it," the other spoke. "You came from Defence Against the Dark Arts, right? What happened there?"

Harry glanced to the side, pondering if he should really tell the vampire what was disturbing him. He had to be honest with himself – he had never felt so free when talking with Vlad about his life. He was never this open with Ron or Hermione, perhaps because he assumed that the two were already aware of the details of his life, directly or indirectly told to them. He also noticed that most of the time he talked with Vlad, the other boy listened attentively all that he said, which Harry was thankful about. Yet he could not help but fell a bit selfish.

"Harry?"

The voice of the vampire brought him back to reality.

"Sorry, we… Moody showed us the Unforgivable Curses."

The look on Vlad's face told Harry that the vampire had no idea what those were. "Erm… care to explain what these curses are?"

"Three spells. One that controls, one that tortures, and one that kills," answered Harry. "My parents were killed with the last one. It was also the one that gave me this."

He pointed to the scar, partially hidden by the mess that was his hair. Vlad looked at him for a moment, beckoning Harry to follow him into a balcony, its only notable feature being the presence of a pedestal with a rather demented gargoyle. The area was shadowed by the castle, the sun being on the other side, which meant that the vampire was safe there.

"Want to talk about it?" spoke Vlad.

Harry leaned into the stone wall, looking vaguely at the horizon.

"I had only seen it in dreams, that curse. It was always the same – a laugh, a woman screaming, and then a green light," said Harry, his gaze distant. "The Dursleys had told me that my parents had died in a car crash, and that my dreams of it were simply memories I had of it. I found out the truth in my first year, but last year…"

He stopped, uncertain of how to proceed.

"You alright Harry?" asked Vlad.

Harry shook his head, as if trying to get something out of his hair. "Sorry Vlad, I really shouldn't be wasting your time with my life story."

"Wasting my time? By garlic, I'm a vampire Harry. Immortal, you know?" said Vlad. "Time's something I don't lack. Trust me, I'm a good listener."

Trust. Now there was something Harry didn't give to everyone. But he trusted Vlad, right? The vampire had been nothing but kind to him since they had met, and he had no reason to doubt him. And truth be told, had been spending more time with him since the year started than with either Ron or Hermione.

And so Harry decided to tell him. Tell him how last year the school had been under the protection of the Dementors, and how their presence made him recall the worst moments of his life, specifically Voldemort's attack and the death of his parents. How he had vividly recalled that scene many times, and how he now knew exactly how his parents had died. At least if Moody was correct, then they had felt nothing. But how exactly did people know that the Killing Curse was painless? Did a ghost reveal the details of being killed in such a way?

Perhaps. He did not know.

* * *

In the days that followed, excitement had come to Hogwarts in the form of the arrival of the students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, their arrival signalling the beginning of the tournament, and the selection period. These days went by normally, although with a few unsuccessful attempts at bypassing the age line. The meetings between Harry and Mirror-Vlad became far more frequent, and the reflection felt his work was now reaching a new level of success.

And soon enough, the end of October came, and with it, the reveal of the three champions.

No one could see him from where he stood, not even Harry. He sat high above in the sill of one of the windows of the Great Hall, observing the event below. The day had finally come for that Goblet of Fire to decide who would be the three champions, and he could see that all students were eager to learn who would be the chosen ones.

Looking at the Gryffindor table, Mirror-Vlad saw Harry sitting there, turned to the goblet as everyone else. He had already plotted on how to further his plans, but unfortunately it would require time to put them into action, and many were scenarios which would not work in the current circumstances. There was also the possibility of Vlad getting involved, but he was at least subdued for the moment.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," spoke Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when I call the chosen champions, I ask them to come up to the top of the Hall and go through into the next chamber where they will receive their first instructions."

The reflection watched and listened as the students began to chatter, betting on who would be chosen as the champions. Then suddenly, nearly all light was extinguished as the candles became dark, and the greatest source of light in the entire Great Hall was now the Goblet of Fire itself. The suspense was finally broken when the flames of the goblet turned red, and a piece of parchment was shot out of it, almost like a miniature fireball.

"The champion for Durmstrang is Viktor Krum," read Dumbledore.

There was much applause as Krum rose from the Slytherin table and walked towards the side chamber. As soon as he disappeared, the goblet's flames became red once more, and another piece of parchment came from the fire.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"

Another round of applause, alongside some crying by a few Beauxbatons students, and Fleur too went into the side chamber. And for the third time, the flames of the goblet became red, and the parchment with the name of Hogwarts' champion came out.

"The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!"

And the final champion rose, with much applause from the Hufflepuff table, and was too sent into the side chamber.

"Excellent! Now that we have our three champions, I am sure I can count on all of you, including the remaining students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions – "

Yet whatever Dumbledore was about to say was stopped, as the something had caught his attention, and quickly that of all those inside the Great Hall. The flames of the goblet had become red again, and far more erratic than it had previously been. And then, a thin and long flame came from it, another small piece of parchment within it. All watched as Dumbledore took hold of it, before reading the name on the parchment, leading to a momentary silence in which all waited for Dumbledore to say something.

Which he did.

"Harry Potter."

Harry? He had been chosen as a champion? Oh, this was brilliant. This was an opportunity he could not, and would not, let go to waste. By blood and garlic this was too perfect. Had it not been for the fact that it would likely attract Harry's attention, the vampire restrained himself from laughing. He watched with a morbid joy as Harry was taken from the Gryffindor table by McGonagall, the boy looking stunned and pleaful.

And as soon as he went through the door, the Great Hall descended into chaos, as students began to discuss what had happened. The Hufflepuffs were clearly not too happy about what had happened, considering that one of their own had been the actual chosen champion of Hogwarts. Meanwhile, the Gryffindors looked quite divided on this matter.

He had to fix that as soon as possible.

* * *

The moon shone brightly above the castle, giving light to the small storage chamber next to the catwalks of the battlements above the Paved Courtyard. A few blankets had been placed there at his disposal, courtesy of the house-elves, and his trunk with all of his things was there too. The discovery of the elves had to be attributed to Vlad, who had somehow managed to discover the kitchens. Dobby was there too, receiving from Dumbledore a galleon per week. The former elf of Mr. Crouch was there too, but she was still in shock from having been freed by her former master.

The elves were likely the only inhabitants of Hogwarts who lacked any kind of rancour against him and were very helpful to the point where he only began to show up publicly for classes, as he had his meals either in the kitchens or in his makeshift bedroom in the battlements, brought there by the eager and loyal Dobby.

But he was there for a simple reason – he no longer felt safe in the Gryffindor Tower.

People could call Harry paranoid, but the young wizard was certain that this was not the case. The first days were tolerable, but what came next was not. For likely the first time in many years, there was some semblance of "house unity" at Hogwarts… except it was not for good reasons. There were ambushes planned against him, random jinxes thrown at him in the corridors and also during class. The teachers either were too oblivious or simply decided to ignore it, but Harry was certain that it was the latter.

He had gotten quite a few detentions and many points deduced for the slightest mistakes, and this time it was not just from Snape, but from the rest of them. The worst offender was Professor Sprout, who seemed to see him as if he was the spawn of Voldemort himself. And then there were Fred and George, who with their creativity had made his life near-hell in the tower and also in the rest of the castle, their pranks escalating into dangerous and harmful territory.

He now had to resort to use the Marauder's Map, navigating across Hogwarts through the secret passages. Harry was certain that in hindsight, Fred and George were now regretting their decision to give him the map last year, as at this moment, it was his greatest defence against the other students. That and his wand. But since the Weasley twins knew quite a few of those passages, this was a dangerous endeavour, and they would likely come to understand what exactly he was trying to do.

But this was too much, even for him. He would rather have to repeat all the dangerous events of the last three years instead of facing this. Harry felt lost. The world seemed to have turned against him, almost as if some cosmic presence had decided that his life should have taken a turn for the worst. The scorn of Slytherin he could handle, as it was a normal thing, especially considering his background and the fact that he was a Gryffindor. But the collective hate of the four houses of Hogwarts directed at him. Funny, Harry thought, that he who had faced Voldemort twice and lived, had killed a Basilisk, and had summed a full Patronus at the age of thirteenth was in such a state. It was pitiful, to be honest.

But he did not know that this was exactly what the reflection wanted. And he had unknowingly fallen into his trap.

"It's just like second year," he spoke in a whisper, his voice nearly cracking. "I-I don't know what to do."

The reflection crouched down, looking at Harry with oddly attentive eyes, yet also something in them that Harry could not identify.

"Talk to me."

Harry missed the authoritative tone in the vampire's voice, but he did as he was told.

"Hexes in the hallways, during class, constant point deductions and detentions by the teachers… and those damned badges too."

And that had been what had finally broken him.

It hurt. It had really hurt to see both Ron and Hermione sporting them, laughing alongside the other students when the " _Support Cedric Diggory - The Real Hogwarts Champion_ " in the badges had changed into " _Potter Stinks_ ". The Slytherins and Hufflepuffs he could understand… but the Gryffindors? Those who had been once his first and closest friends? It had been as if he was taken from his universe and popped into another one, where he was universally hated.

"I can't trust anyone… not the professors, not the Gryffindors," continued Harry. "Sometimes even the shadows seem ready to jump at me."

"Do you trust me, Harry?"

Well… except for Vlad, that is.

In all of this, the only one who had stayed at his side was the vampire next to him. Odd, that the supposed "undead and blood-sucking monster" had become his last friend in all of this. Such an odd combination, but he supposed it somehow worked. James Potter had the werewolf, and now Harry Potter had the vampire. Or at least he thought he did.

But the reflection looked at the wizard, his mind clearly troubled by many thoughts. Yet he still waited eagerly and patiently for the answer. He was so close to now… so close…

"Yeah," was the reply, nearly shrouded by the sound of the wind. But the reflection heard it well.

He heard and smiled, a smile which was everything but kind. But Harry's sight was not set of Vlad, and thus he was oblivious to it. The young wizard knew little of what was happening, as he felt a violent gust of wind, and suddenly the vampire was in front of him, and it was then that he saw it. In the near-darkness of the room he saw the eyes of Vlad, no longer blue but red, his twin set of fangs how extended, giving the vampire a feral look. In these instants many things ran through Harry's mind, but the greatest of all was fear… and betrayal.

And the last thing he felt before his vision went dark and his mind fell into blissful oblivion was a sharp pain on his neck.


	6. Death and Rebirth

_**Chapter 6 – Death and Rebirth** _

Vladimir Dracula wasn't sure about what exactly was wrong with him. Ever since September he had felt drained of energy, and when his father had caught on, he had insisted that this was because of his insistence on not drinking actual blood but that vegetarian substitute. With nothing to do, he had slipped into a repetitive routine of sleeping during the day and trying to conserve his energies during the night. Yet he sometimes had strange dreams. Dreams which involved himself and Harry, the two talking in what seemed to be an abandoned classroom during the day. He had been unsure of what this meant. Perhaps it was his brain attempting to cope with the subpar socialization he had while inside the castle, having only Zoltan, the mindwiped Renfield, and his bloodthirsty father to talk to. He had eventually resigned himself to this until he finally got to actually speak with someone, at least when he finally got the strength to do that.

Until this night came.

He felt an unnatural surge of vitality in himself, the same he had before September. His relief however had been short lived, as his mind was suddenly invaded by what he could only call a vision. He felt as if his mind had been detached from his body, and he saw things that were not possible. Something told Vlad that having visions when awake was not normal. And neither was seeing Harry with someone who looked exactly like him. The two were alone in a section of the castle he barely recognized, and all seemed normal until his lookalike suddenly moved towards Harry and attacked him, teeth sinking onto Harry's neck. There was no way this was a dream, considering the vividness. It was different from other dreams, and eerily similar to the dream he had when he faced his Grand High Vampire. Regardless, he wasn't going to let this go by uninvestigated. If Harry was indeed being attacked by a vampire in this school, then he had to save him.

Having previously explored the castle, he had a general idea of where Harry and the impostor were, and so he ran towards the battlements of the Paved Courtyard, his vampiric speed allowing to reach it in a matter of seconds. The sound of the wind was the only thing normally audible in the area, but the smell of blood in the air was enough to direct him towards his goal. There in a small room adjacent to the catwalks was Harry, the figure from the vision above him, biting his neck.

"Get away from him!" he shouted.

His doppelgänger stopped, slowly rising, and letting Harry's unconscious form fall on a small mound of blankets. The other turned, and what Vlad saw horrified him.

"Hello Vlad," said the other, a wicked smile on his bloodstained lips. "It's like looking in a mirror, isn't it?"

"What in the blood and garlic are you?" growled Vlad.

"You know what I am. You're not that daft, are you, Vladdy?"

Vlad looked at his duplicate, the idea emerging on his mind after a moment of silence.

"How?"

"You never stood in front of the Blood Mirror. We never faced each other," said the reflection. "You thought I would just remain there for eternity, while you walked around showing to everyone what a wimp you are?"

"Reflections can't interact with people!"

"Good for me that we're in a castle filled with magic."

The mirror-Vlad had now stepped forward, the two standing a few inches away from each other.

"Back off."

"Make me."

There was something very wrong about his reflection – he was too physical. And the smell of blood coming from his mouth and Harry's neck was already distracting him far too much. He needed to concentrate, as the thing in front of him could be unpredictable.

"Caring for little Harry, are we?" the mirror-Vlad mocked. "He's going to die, whatever you do. The bite wound won't close unless he's bitten by you, and you alone. Either you turn him and finally taste blood, or your breather friend dies."

"You're lying."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

This could only end in two ways. Either he took control, or the reflection did, and he was not about to let that happen.

" _If Ingrid could tame hers, then I can tame you,"_ he thought determined.

Vlad stepped forward, his hands grabbing his reflection's shoulders with all strength he could muster. Immediately he felt the link between him and his reflection tempting to close itself, pain engulfing his body, and from the scream of his reflection, his as well. He fought with all he could trying to maintain his own consciousness on the top, and seemingly succeeding. It was strange, but he was expecting more of a fight from the mirror-Vlad.

"This…isn't…over…"

With those three words, he saw his other self-vanish into a blur, before his body felt like it was attacked by a thousand sharp pins. Vlad fell to his knees, groaning in pain momentarily before regaining awareness of the situation. He felt no significant change in himself… except he now had the memories of his reflection, and he knew exactly what it wanted, and what had happened to Harry as well. It then hit him like a bus.

Harry.

In a flash he was up and next to the boy. The right side of his neck was bloodied and punctured, occasional spurts of blood coming from the bite wounds. Trying to ignore the intoxicating smell, Vlad took hold of a discarded white shirt, likely belonging to Harry, wrapping it around the younger teen's neck trying to stop the bleeding. In no time the white began to become red, and taking hold of Harry, Vlad took him to the tower where he and his father resided, placing the unconscious wizard on top of a table.

"Dad!" he called out. "Dad!"

As if he had been there all along, Count Dracula was suddenly at his side. "What?"

And then the smell hit the Count, as well as the sight of Harry's body on the table, a bloodied shirt around his throat.

"Vlad, what have you done?" said the Count, sounding more annoyed than anything else. "Right when we're not supposed to bite anyone is when you do it!"

"I didn't bite him."

"Oh? There are other vampires in the castle then?"

"No. My reflection did this."

The Count seemed to have been hit with something in the head. "Your reflection?"

"It escaped the mirror and used the magic of this castle to gain power. He's the one who bit Harry."

"Harry? Is this that wizard friend of yours you spoke about?"

Vlad sighed, irritated by his father casualness in this situation.

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth. "Go and call Dumbledore. He may know what to do."

There was a numb nod from the Count, who then vanished from the room, leaving Harry and Vlad alone.

* * *

Dumbledore's usually passive face looked exceptionally gloomy as he looked at Harry's pale form, his breathing becoming continually slow. He could not quite believe the situation when the Count had suddenly appeared inside his office, but now the truth was here in front of him. When the aged headmaster had looked directly into the eyes of Vladimir Dracula, and saw that the young vampire's words were true, he could do nothing but feel disappointment. Albus Dumbledore was disappointed with himself, this entire situation adding itself to his list of failures. His work as headmaster, together with that as Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock kept him away from the day-to-day working of the school, and he left that to Minerva. This meant he had be utterly oblivious to the persecution Harry had suffered at the hands of his teachers and fellow students. Perhaps had he been aware this might have had a different ending.

Then again, his involvement might have caused the reflection to act against him as well, which could have led to Harry being placed in a far more difficult situation.

He waved his wand and cast a few spells on Harry's trying to correctly assess his situation, but it seemed that Vlad reported to him was true. The reflection had truly left Harry hanging on a thin life between life and death, and the teen was quickly slipping onto death. The small holes on his neck were resisting any attempts at healing, almost as if an invisible force was keeping them open, whatever blood Harry had left occasionally leaking from them.

He shook his head sadly. "No magic is able to heal this. Muggle healing would not help either. Something is keeping the wounds open."

"Must be the reflection's work," said Vlad, glancing at Harry. "He won't survive then."

"No," was Dumbledore's reply.

Vlad knew this was exactly what the reflection had wanted. It had creeped its way into Harry's trust, only to strike at the right time, leaving in in the brink of death and presenting him with two choices: he either kept his goal of not drinking blood and allowed Harry to die, or he would bite Harry, turning him yet tasting blood. He was not about to let someone die because of what his reflection. Funny, that he had spent so long trying to keep himself from drinking actual blood, and now he was presented with a choice like this.

He then felt a hand on his shoulder and had not noticed that Dumbledore had approached him.

"It's your choice Vladimir," said Dumbledore. "But remember that time is fleeting."

He did not watch as Dumbledore left the room, the sound of the wizard's steps fading away as he descended the stairwell.

"So, Master Vlad, what will you do?" asked Zoltan.

"I can't let him die," said Vlad as he stood up.

"Technically he will die either way."

He turned to the hound, exasperation clear in his face. "Thanks Zoltan. Good to know."

He got closer to Harry and looked at the wizard's bloodied neck, the smell of blood already reaching his nostrils. He bent down, and it was almost as if he had been guided to the right place, his fangs heading straight into were his reflection had bitten, and then the skin began to tighten around the teeth. It was an unnatural rush, and despite it all his aversions, he did not feel sick. The taste of blood had not been what he expected. It had been as if the merge with the reflection had been done in such a way that it left with without knowledge of how it tasted.

It was like its soy variant, but far more... refined. It was like comparing an average dish to another made by a skilled chef. In this case, soy blood was the average dish. But he stopped. He had to. He could barely feel a heartbeat coming from the other boy. Otherwise what he was doing would be for nothing. There was little blood left to fight the transformation, so he supposed that it wouldn't be long before the wizard before him awakened as one of the undead.

He only hoped that Harry would not hate him for this.

* * *

First there was nothing but utter silence, broken only by a scream of pain which seemed so very distant. Harry didn't know where the scream came from, only that he was now awake. Opening his eyes, he looked into an unfamiliar ceiling, belonging neither to the Gryffindor Common Room nor the battlements. And he also felt cold and uncharacteristically light. Had he bumped his head into a wall or something last night? In fact, what exactly had happened last night? He could remember none of it.

As he stood up, Harry noticed something.

He was not breathing.

More to it, he did not feel the need to breathe. Instinctively, his hand went towards his chest, almost as if seeking answers. There was nothing. No heartbeat. It was then that he noticed the paleness of his skin, and the dots began to link on his head. Feeling his neck, Harry finally found what he was looking for, and quickly deduced what had happened to him.

He was dead. Possibly a vampire now.

But how? Or better yet – who?

"Harry."

He turned immediately to the source of the voice.

"Vlad?"

The older teen had been sitting in an armchair near the doorway, his face showing both relief and worry.

"Do you remember anything?"

Presuming that Vlad was talking about what had led to him being in this state, Harry tried to remember exactly what had happened, but nothing came. All he recalled was having dinner brought to him by Dobby in his room up in the battlements, all the rest was a blank. He had likely fallen asleep, right?

"No," he answered.

Vlad nodded, as if reassuring himself of something. "You were attacked last night."

Well, now that was something.

"By who?"

Yet Vlad did not answer immediately.

"Harry, when was the first time you met me on this castle?"

Harry thought about it. It had been right on the first day of classes if he was not mistaken.

"The first day of school, I think."

"And you've been having meetings with me ever since, right?"

He nodded, confused about why Vlad was asking these things.

"Harry, the last time I met you before this was during the World Cup," said Vlad, much to Harry's shock. "The Vlad you've been meeting was not me."

"An impostor?"

Had someone been posing as Vlad using Polyjuice potion or something?

"No. Something wrong happened with an artefact we have, and my reflection got loose on the school. The Vlad you've been meeting was that reflection – my evil reflection."

Harry nodded numbly, realization slowly hitting him. For two whole months, the Vlad he had spoken with… the Vlad he had basically spilled all his secrets and life into was an evil reflection of the real one? How exactly was that even supposed to work?

"So, was he the one who…?"

He had been attacked, and Vlad's talk had basically revealed that the attacker had likely been the reflection. And considering that he had been bitten on the neck, his current state was the reflection's fault.

"He bit you yes, but that didn't turn you. I did."

"You did? Why?"

The reflection he could understand… but Vlad, the supposedly anti-blood vampire, he did not.

"His bite did not work right. He left you with little blood and the wounds would not close. Dumbledore tried to heal them, but nothing worked," revealed Vlad. "You were bitten by a reflection… not the real thing. You still had blood leaking from your neck and you were dying. Proper dying – no turning into a vampire."

So Vlad – the real Vlad – had bitten him in order to save him from death. Well… actual, full death. Semantics. That didn't matter much now.

"Thanks, I guess," he said, still stunned. "What about the other Vlad?"

"I absorbed him."

"Oh, okay. Did you also get his memories or something?"

At Vlad's nod, Harry felt a great relief. So that meant that Vlad already knew all that he had told his reflection. At least two months' worth of conversations hadn't gone to waste.

"Why then?" asked Harry. "Why me?"

"You were a tool for him… something he wanted to corrupt and break. He's why the entire school turned against you – so that you would be dependent on him. And he wanted to use that against me."

And he had succeeded in doing exactly that.

"What now then?" Harry asked, trying to stand up and nearly falling to the floor before Vlad rushed and kept him up. "Woah… thanks."

"Now… well, no sunlight, no garlic, no reflections, you have to watch out for pointy bits of wood, and you're immortal," said Vlad, helping Harry into a nearby chair.

"What about… you know?"

"Drinking blood?" asked Vlad, at which he received a nod and continued. "You'll feel the urges now. It gets worse when you're near breathers, especially when they get wounded."

He reached towards a bottle on the floor, a small glass cup next to it. Uncorking the bottle, Vlad poured the red liquid into the cup, before handing it to Harry.

"Soy blood. Not the actual thing, but it tastes basically the same."

Harry raised the cup to his nose and sniffed the contents. He wasn't sure what to expect, especially considering this was soy blood. His mind briefly drifted back to when he had been bitten by the basilisk, and how his arm had been bloodied after that. He tried to remember if he had smelled his own blood back then, but as far as he could remember, he had been more focused in rescuing Ginny and destroying the diary to do that.

He hesitantly brought it to his lips, and sipped a bit of the liquid, Vlad looking at him with curiosity.

"So?" asked the older teen.

"It's… different."

It was not the real thing, that he knew much. Being a vampire had clearly altered the taste, since it didn't taste like he had been drinking liquid metal. It was like someone had created a drink that had a divine yet unrecognizable taste. And this was soy blood. He couldn't even imagine what actual blood would be now.

"Can I still eat? Normal food?"

"Yeah. But it doesn't do anything," answered Vlad. "Most vampires do it for nostalgia, while others don't eat at all."

"So, I can still pretend I'm human."

"As long as you don't go out in the sunlight, or stand too close to garlic, or in front of a mirror – yes."

Of course, this was all ended when their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of the Count. Who seemed to appraise the situation with much joy, and was already grasping Vladimir's shoulders and looking as proud as a peacock during mating season.

"Well done Vladimir! I knew you'd come around in the end – your first bite and turning, all in one!"

Harry nearly laughed at the look of apology and embarrassment in Vlad's face. Christmas had come early for Count Dracula, it seemed. Unfortunately, it had been at his expense, but what was done is done. No turning back now, unless it was to see it all being done in an outside perspective. He had no time-turners for that, however.

But the matter of the tournament and Hogwarts came to his mind. Perhaps Dumbledore had some ideas about that.


	7. Prophecies and Tasks

_ **Chapter 7 – Prophecies and Tasks** _

Harry had not been given any time to get acquainted with his new state.

Despite his protests, Vlad had figuratively dragged him to Dumbledore's office, claiming that they had to talk to the headmaster about what was going to happen to him now that he was a vampire. Sure, he knew that he had to talk to Dumbledore about that, but that could have been done later. Somehow, Vlad knew the gargoyle's password, and it let them in. As he entered, Harry saw in the corner of his eye a multitude of red and golden in a single place. He turned towards it and standing on a golden porch near the door was Fawkes, the phoenix of Professor Dumbledore.

"Hello, Fawkes."

The phoenix swished its long tail at Harry in a friendly display, as if greeting him as well.

"By Mister Potter's complexion and the fact that he is walking, I assume he has been turned."

Harry turned to the voice, seeing that Dumbledore was standing behind his desk. He was sure that no one was there when they entered.

"He has," declared Vlad.

"My apologies Vladimir," said Dumbledore. "I did not wish to place such a burden on you."

The vampire shrugged.

"It's no one's fault but my reflection's."

There was a nod from Dumbledore, who quickly invited the two to sit. "We must of course speak about how to deal with your condition and both your home and school life," said Dumbledore. "Of course, you can't return to your aunt. Since the protection made by your mother's sacrifice no longer works, you are no longer safe there from Voldemort."

" _Nor from an angry or hungry Harry",_ thought Vlad.

"No more Dursleys?"

The hopeful tone on Harry's voice made it clear to Dumbledore once more that his student's relationship with his only living family was not the best.

"Also, for the safety of your fellow students, it is best that you no longer sleep in Gryffindor Tower."

Harry snorted. "A bit ahead of you, professor. I haven't been sleeping in the tower for a while."

"So I've heard, unfortunately," sighed Dumbledore. "Do remember Harry, that your fellow peers were under the influence of Vladimir's reflection. Nothing of what they did was of their own accord."

Harry grumbled something which Dumbledore was unable to hear, yet Vlad did.

"Harry!" warned the older vampire, his tone stern.

Harry sighed. "Fine… sorry," he mumbled. "So where will I live then? Both here and outside of Hogwarts?"

"My suggestion is that you reside with young Vladimir here," said Dumbledore with an odd twinkle in his eyes. "I'm certain that he'll be able to keep an eye on you."

Harry turned to the other.

"Vlad?"

"Fine by me," said Vlad without hesitation.

He had turned Harry into a vampire, therefore he was now his responsibility. He had to make sure he wouldn't succumb to the baser instincts of vampires and possibly become one of those street ferals. It wouldn't do any good either for him to be caught by slayers.

"And outside?"

Dumbledore seemed to become a bit uncomfortable.

"I have been meaning to speak with you for a few days about a new matter, but I was unsure of how to approach you with it," admitted Dumbledore. "I alone cannot explain it to you, so you will have a meeting in a few days with an… acquaintance of mine."

"About what?" asked Harry, curious and a bit irritated.

"It concerns your castle and more. I'm afraid I can't say anything else on the risk of giving you false information."

The teen nodded, supposing it was better than nothing.

"What about the tournament?" asked Harry. "I can't go out during the day."

"The tasks have not yet been scheduled," informed Dumbledore. "As headmaster of the host school, I have the duty of scheduling the tasks – to make sure they do not interfere with classes. I will make sure they are set at an appropriate time, due to your condition."

Harry nodded, feeling relieved.

"There's something else," spoke Vlad.

Dumbledore nodded. "Do speak."

"Something happened before Harry woke up," said Vlad. "Black smoke came out of his scar while screaming."

"I screamed?"

Harry remembered the faint screaming when he regained consciousness, but he hadn't been sure where it came from.

"No, the smoke did."

Dumbledore seemed to be pondering something for a few moments. He then stood up and walked towards Harry, pointing his wand at Harry's head. It hovered above the scar, a dim light emanating from its tip. Harry felt a tingling sensation on his forehead, curious about what Dumbledore was doing.

"Remarkable," mumbled the old headmaster.

"Professor?"

"Harry, are you willing to do a small test?"

Harry shrugged, wondering what exactly Dumbledore wanted. "Sure."

Immediately, Dumbledore had pointed his wand at the floor, a flash coming from it, followed by a thud as a small snake fell on the floor. It began hissing, turning towards the three, the hisses becoming far more aggressive. It was then that Harry noticed that something was wrong.

"Can you understand it?"

Harry shook his head. "No," he uttered.

Dumbledore vanished the snake, the animal disappearing in a puff of smoke.

"Why would he understand snakes?" asked Vlad. "Is it something wizards can do?"

"Not all wizards," said Dumbledore. "Only a few select individuals are graced with the ability to understand and speak Parseltongue. When Voldemort's attempt to murder Harry backfired, he left behind a portion of his powers on Harry. Now, I suspect he may have left more than just his powers."

"More?"

Dumbledore returned to his desk, and opened a small drawer, removing a very familiar book, handing it to Harry.

"Tom Riddle's diary?"

Vlad recalled that name from his reflection's memories, when Harry spoke of what had happened during his second year at Hogwarts.

"When you gave it to me, I began to search what kind of magic could leave such a vivid memory in an object. Regrettably, I found nothing of the sort," explained Dumbledore. "I did, however, come across something else – which may have been well within Voldemort's power and willingness to do. Vladimir's description of the black smoke and the scream coming from your scar further makes this possibility the true one."

"What?"

"I suspect that Voldemort may have created what is called an Horcrux."

The blank look on both Harry and Vlad's faces was clear enough that the two knew nothing of what an Horcrux was. He would have been concerned if they did.

"What's that?" asked Harry.

"It is an object in which a wizard has hidden part of their soul. Upon doing so, even if the wizard's body is killed, they cannot die because their soul is anchored to this world by the Horcrux."

Harry could tell where this was going.

"I'm one of these…. Horcruxes?" Harry asked, horrified at the prospect of being something used by Voldemort to keep himself from truly dying.

"Not anymore, I assume. "The horcrux requires an intact vessel. If it is damaged beyond repair, then the soul fragment within is destroyed. In the case of a living vessel, its death would suffice."

Vlad nodded, understanding what Dumbledore was revealing. "That smoke was the soul fragment then."

"And the scream came from its destruction," concluded the headmaster. "This of course changes everything."

"Sorry professor, but what has been changed?" asked Harry.

Dumbledore seemed to age in front of him, as if suddenly all the burdens in the world had been placed on the headmaster's shoulders.

"Several years ago, a prophecy was made – one whose telling I witnessed. It was spoken by Professor Trelawney, and overheard by one of Voldemort's Death Eaters."

Harry was about to protest Dumbledore's trust of something predicted by Trelawney, but then remembered the trance that she had entered last year. Restraining himself, he asked:

"A prophecy?"

"It speaks of the birth of the one with the power to defeat Voldemort – a power unknown to him – and how one would need to die at the hands of the other. The other details are unimportant, but it also specifies that he would mark the one as his equal."

"My scar? You think I'm the one of that prophecy?"

"It's not about what I think Harry, but what Voldemort does. While he doesn't know the complete prophecy, he knew enough to believe you were a threat to him. It was he who unwittingly determined you would be the one to bring his possible downfall."

Vlad's face looked passive, but inside he couldn't feel incredulous. He too was involved in a prophecy, declaring him to be the Chosen One of the vampires – to bring their race to glory once more. In turn Harry, who he had changed into a vampire, was also involved in a prophecy of his own, declaring him to be the only one capable of killing a powerful and possibly insane dark wizard. Life was funny sometimes.

Well… unlife.

"But Harry's a vampire now. He's dead," stated Vlad. "Is that prophecy still relevant?"

"To Voldemort, it is. He believes Harry is the only one capable of stopping him. He doesn't know that that the prophecy has been nullified by his death and will undoubtedly try to kill Harry again."

"And you think he can return? You said his body was destroyed."

Even if this Voldemort had bound his spirit to the world of the living, Vlad still could not see how exactly he would regain a body.

"He's trying to."

Dumbledore and Vlad turned to Harry.

"Harry?" questioned Dumbledore.

"I've had a dream… before the Quidditch World Cup. About Lord Voldemort and Wormtail… you know who Wormt-"

"I know, yes," said Dumbledore. "Please continue."

"They were in an old house, and Voldemort seemed to be on an armchair, but I couldn't see him, only Wormtail and a snake he called Nagini," said Harry as he tried to clearly remember the dream. "He spoke about a faithful servant at Hogwarts… and something about extracting memories from a Bertha. There was also an old man there, but I can't remember anything else."

Dumbledore heard Harry speak, looking at him without any clear expression. The old man seemed to be deep in thought, something which Harry noticed happening whenever Dumbledore face lost its usual serenity.

"Bertha," he muttered. "Bertha Jorkins?"

"Yeah, that's the one!" said Harry, immediately remembering the full name.

Dumbledore sighed. "Bertha was an employee of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. She disappeared months ago after going to Albania on holiday."

There was a moment of silence, the two teenagers looking at Dumbledore, the gears turning in his mind almost visible.

"It is no coincidence that you were entered into the tournament, and that Bertha - who was involved in its early preparations - disappeared in Albania only to be captured by Voldemort," said Dumbledore.

"He's the reason I'm in the tournament," concluded Harry. "He must hope that I will die competing."

"What about that 'faithful servant'," spoke Vlad. "Isn't Harry in danger?"

"Someone associated with the tournament?" suggested Harry. "Or perhaps Moody."

"Professor Moody?" Dumbledore seemed a bit offended at Harry's suggestion.

"I mean, all past Defence teachers have had something sketchy about them," said Harry. "Quirrell had Voldemort on the back of his head, Lockhart was a fraud, and Professor Lupin was a werewolf. And something bad happened with all of them at the end of each year – with me involved. Who's to say Moody isn't the next."

"Harry, Professor Moody is an ex-auror. Many of Voldemort's followers are in Azkaban thanks to him."

"Oh."

Well, that theory of his had just been defenestrated.

"For now, we shall continue on the path set before us by Voldemort. Neither he, nor his servant suspect that we may know anything about it. If they did, then their plans could suffer drastic and unpredictable alterations. Let them unfold, and we shall react accordingly."

* * *

To Harry, living at Hogwarts had become a complete challenge. Of course, while he simply used the secret passages to avoid the windowed corridors and hallways during the day, inside classrooms was a completely different matter. Ironically, the only place where he could be at ease were the dungeons, where the presence of windows was basically non-existent. The most problematic ones were both Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. Dumbledore had managed to find a way around it, which involved less practical work, and more theoretical work. And there was also Astronomy, the completely non-problematic one since it was taught late at night.

Unfortunately, this also meant he could no longer go to Hogsmeade. So much for getting his authorization paper signed by Sirius.

It had only been three days since it all had happened, and from what he could tell the school knew he had been attacked, yet not by what. He blatantly refused to speak with anyone about it, and also despised the looks of pity thrown at him. He didn't need their pity. He needed their silence, their distance, their blo-

No.

He had to put a stop to his thoughts. He didn't need any of their bodily fluids. He could do just fine with soy blood. There was no way he would succumb to the baser urges of vampirism, not matter how strong they were, or how the rush of blood flowing into his mouth, freshly drained from -

Dammit!

He really needed to stop thinking about that.

"Harry!"

He turned at the familiar voice, and saw Hermione standing there, a very nervous look on her face. He had been about to open up a secret passage and had been completely oblivious to the fact that he had been followed.

"Hermione?"

"Can we talk… please?"

The pleading expression on her face suggested that she was likely one of those put under the reflection's control. If Harry's hunch was correct, then she likely came to apologise, or do something similar. He looked past her to see if anyone else was nearby and motioned for her to approach.

Hermione looked exceptionally miserable, almost ready to cry.

"Harry I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me to do all that! And then Dumbledore announced that you had been attacked by something and – "

Harry raised his hand to stop her.

"Don't. It's not your fault," he said reassuringly. "The thing that attacked me was the one that made you all – well, most of you – act like that. When it was banished, its influence fell."

Hermione was shocked. "Dumbledore only told us you had been attacked and saved by Vladimir Count. He didn't speak about any creature. Why didn't he tell us?"

"Likely not to cause panic. Imagine knowing that a creature capable of isolating you from everyone before attacking you by manipulating their minds was at Hogwarts."

He supposed his situation could be compared to Ginny's, back when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. True, she was influenced by Riddle, but she had trusted Voldemort's memory in the same way he had trusted Vlad's reflection.

"I was healed pretty quickly. There's still a vestigial wound here, but Dumbledore used a spell to disguise it while it heals," he lied.

Were "vestigial wounds" really a thing? He didn't know, but Hermione seemed to eat it up like a spider eating trapped insects. The bite marks had disappeared completely thanks to a salve provided by Madam Pomfrey, so there was nothing that indicated he had been bitten by a vampire.

Then, out of nowhere, he was suddenly embraced by Hermione in a hug which could be best described as "bone-crushing".

"Hermione, the wound!"

She quickly stopped the hug, looking both embarrassed and worried.

"Did I hurt you Harry?"

"Nah, it's okay," he replied, rubbing his neck.

Yet her demeanour quickly changed, the witch becoming sullener and visibly annoyed.

"Ron still believes that you placed your name on the goblet."

"Does he? Well, unless he comes to his senses and realizes that I did not place my name in the goblet, then the git can sod off."

Hermione frowned, but she knew that chancing Harry's mind would be impossible. Still, it was better than Harry cutting off all ties.

The year had started badly for the three of them, and she only hoped it would not get worse.

* * *

The next day, Dumbledore had finally called him into his office, the note he received stating that it was about the meeting they needed to have. Having been given access by the gargoyle, Harry stepped inside the office of the headmaster once more, and saw that inside was not only Dumbledore, but also another man.

He wore a rather peculiar set of robes, composed of three layers – a blue dalmatic with small black patterns (which at closer inspection were revealed to be animals, specifically some type of bird), a white tunic with floral golden patterns, and finally a red cloak fastened to his right shoulder.

"Ah, Harry, welcome," said Dumbledore. "This is Lord An – "

The man stopped Dumbledore's words, immediately approaching Harry, giving him a small bow and extending his hand in greetings.

"Anacletus Corvinus, your Highness," he said. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

Harry was already shaking the man's hand when his words suddenly hit him.

"Your 'what'?"

The man sighed, his English saturated with a heavy accent. "I was afraid you would say that." He then turned to Dumbledore. "He truly doesn't know anything?"

"No," said Dumbledore.

"What don't I know?"

The headmaster sighed.

"It appears that the Historical Preservation Act was a sloppy attempt by the Ministry to take control of the Caligon archipelago," said Dumbledore. "I'm afraid they tried to take advantage of your ignorance of the wizarding world."

"The idiots tried to pull the same trick on me," snarled Corvinus. "Of course, I had to come to the last of the Fleamonts to solve this matter."

"I'm not a Fleamont," hurriedly said Harry. "And what's the Caligon archipelago?"

"A set of islands to the west of Ireland," said Corvinus hurriedly. "And while you may not be a Fleamont in name, their blood runs in your veins – the blood of Sextus Pictor."

Harry resisted snorting at the man's words. He was quite sure that whatever blood he had left, it no longer ran in his veins. If he had to guess, whatever he had left was both in his hands and feet. Regardless, the name spoken by Corvinus was not familiar.

"Who?"

It was evident that Corvinus was exasperated at Harry's ignorance.

"An ancient Roman wizard who created Caligon by expanding many islets into twelve larger islands," said Dumbledore. "At least according to legend."

"It's not a legend, it's an historical fact," declared Corvinus, irritation dripping from his voice like venom. "You Brits can't see anything beyond your precious Founders, and your Merlins, and - "

"Lord Corvinus?"

Harry's voice brought Anacletus out of his rant.

"Ah, my apologies," he said. "It's simply frustrating to see the minor magical nations and their history to be so easily disregarded and passed off as myth by the larger ones. The point still stands that the British Ministry has attempted to take over the islands."

"So why haven't they just… you know, invaded them?" asked Harry.

"There's a reason it's called Caligon. A protective mist encircles the isles, hiding them from non-magicals, and preventing any sort of hostile action against them by others. The British Ministry may have thought that by 'legally' – and I use this word loosely – usurping the islands from you, that they would be recognized as their rightful owners."

"How… how does that even work?"

"Magic is a wonderous and strange thing, Mister Potter," said Dumbledore. "However, it does not understand politics. Certain actions may lead to the subversion of protective enchantments if the opportunity is presented."

"And why exactly did you come to me? I only have a castle there. It's not like I own the islands."

The expression of the face of Corvinus and Dumbledore quickly told him this was not the case.

"I own the islands?"

"If you want to be blunt about it, yes. You are a direct descendant of the Fleamont kings of Caligon, and the highest in the order of succession."

"I'm a king? Why have I never heard of this until today?"

"Your family never had much interest in the isles. While unfortunate to say, Caligon has been insignificant since the late 19th century," said Corvinus. "The isles are uninhabited, so while you have power there, outside it's mostly a sign of prestige, something which – I understand – the Potters cared little about."

"So why didn't my parents hide there?"

If the isles were as protected as Anacletus claimed, then surely James and Lily Potter would have hidden there from Voldemort

"They didn't know, I assume. The isles have been deserted since the death of Livia Fleamont, your great-great-grandmother," said Corvinus. "Nowadays, the only ones who know anything factual about the isles are the Caligonese diaspora. Not to mention that the Potters were British."

It really seemed that Corvinus had a bone to pick with Britain.

"Back to the matter at hand. I came to see if you were aware of this attempted pseudo-invasion, and also to solve it," he continued, briefly glancing at Dumbledore.

"You know as well as I do that I cannot control the Ministry," said Dumbledore.

"You are the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamont, and one of Fudge's advisors. That alone gives you more power there than the rest of those fools! Keep in mind, that if I bring this before the Confederation, they will fall on your Ministry like vultures, Dumbledore," said the man. "Remember what happened when they claimed Avalon was part of Britain. Thomas Uriens would have flayed alive your delegates had he not been restrained by his own."

Dumbledore mentally cringed at the memory. Truly, the British Ministry sometimes lacked tact when it was most required, and possessed an unrivalled arrogance when it was not needed.

"I will see what I can do," said the headmaster.

"Good. Make sure you do."

* * *

Harry and Anacletus had left Dumbledore's office, allowing them a moment of privacy, and freedom from the tension that had permeated the headmaster's office.

"So… how much are you involved in this?" asked Harry. "How important is Caligon for you?"

Sure, Corvinus seemed to have some sort of property in these isles, but he wasn't sure how much influence he had.

"Caligon was… is, the last true living legacy of the Roman Republic. It was created and colonized by Roman wizards who brought their traditions and culture there. It may have been ruled by kings, true, but it was the people that allowed them to rule. The kingdom had most of all assemblies that the Republic had – the Curiae, the Tribes, and that of the Plebians. We too had a Senate which survived for two thousand years until the exodus. When the Republic became the Empire and it fell a millennium and half later, we became the last breathing remnant of old Rome."

"If it's so important, then why did people leave?"

"No one knows. Those whose thoughts are recorded only mention that they felt that remaining on the islands wouldn't be good, and so they left. Even when there were desperate edicts passed that stripped the properties of those that left. Many suspect it the work of a powerful compulsion."

"And your family left too."

Corvinus nodded. "My ancestors too were compelled to leave, but we escaped the edict due to our status and connections to the Fleamonts. We already had established ourselves in the Netherlands, so it was an easy transition."

"Status?"

"The Corvinus family has been on the isles since they were created. Our help to its growth saw many of our members awarded with the position of Vicar of Pharus, which eventually became a hereditary one, which nowadays belongs to me," said Corvinus, as if that explained everything, yet Harry's blank expression quickly told Anacletus that the teenager in front of him has no idea what a Vicar was. "In the isles, a 'vicar' is the same as an hereditary viceroy. And Pharus is – "

"One of the islands?"

"Exactly."

Anacletus took a deep breath, before clapping his hands.

"Well, I'm afraid I must be going," he declared. "If you have any questions about Caligon, or the history of your family, then you know who to contact Harry Potter."

Harry nodded "I… thank you, Vicar Corvinus."

The man smiled, and after a handshake, he left the hallway, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Being called to the wand weighting ceremony had been quite irritating. The ceremony was too as well. And Rita Skeeter had possibly been the worst part about it. To his luck, vampires still appeared on magical photographs, so there was no risk of his being outed as a vampire by accident. Beyond these trivialities, he still had no idea about what the first task would be, and that had worried him greatly. Until he received a note from Hagrid, telling him to go to his hut at night and bring the invisibility cloak with him. Finding that the first task involved dragons was not how Harry wanted to end the day.

Then there was also Moody, who seemed to be getting more desperate to speak with him alone. Despite what Dumbledore had told him, he still didn't trust the man, and he was not about to be alone with him. Hermione had helped him to figure out a way to fight the dragon – which was likely the task - and both reached the conclusion that the best way to do that was by flying. And while he would certainly not be able to bring his broom into the task, the rules did not specify he couldn't summon it. And so, with Hermione's help, he set out to practice the Summoning Charm, followed by a few jinxes they found in a book about dragon keepers.

In time came the task, and it had not been what he was expecting. Turns out he didn't have to fight the dragon. He simply had to take a golden egg from a nest protected by the dragon. The event was held at dusk, the sun already beyond the horizon, with the arena illuminated by bright spotlight-like devices, similar to those used in the Quidditch World Cup. Cedric had retrieved his egg, although with quite a few burns and a badly broken arm which would need to be deboned and regrowth – an experience which Harry was familiar with. In contrast, Fleur and Krum had retrieved theirs with little to no injuries, something which Harry suspected was due to being prepared for the task, likely due to knowing what they would face, something which Cedric did not.

When his turn came, summoning his Firebolt had been the first thing he did. The next was avoiding the dragon's attacks while he waited for the broom to arrive. It had certainly been a thrilling experience, and he succeeded in completing his task without casting another spell. On the other hand, he had been docked points due to a near slash on his shoulder, which had luckily only damaged his clothes. He didn't want to explain why a wound wouldn't bleed. But in the end, Harry cared little about it. He had survived the first task, and that was all that mattered.

And then came Ron.

It took far longer than he expected, but the prat finally realized that he had not placed himself on the tournament. Harry wondered how much of it had been stubbornness on Ron's part. In the end, Harry had relented and decided to forgive his old friend, yet not before whacking him in the head with the Firebolt.

He ended the night by downing an entire bottle of soy blood.

* * *

So… there was going to be a ball, and all champions were obligated to appear. McGonagall had made it very clear to him. That and that he would dance as well. Ron and Hermione had the choice of not going, but even that wasn't available to him. Well, if he was going, then those two would go as well. It was time to call on their "debt".

"We need to talk."

Ron and Hermione looked at him worriedly.

"About what?" asked Ron.

"The ball," said Harry. "About who you're going with."

Hermione looked at him a bit bewildered. "Harry, we were just told about it. We haven't decided who we're going with, or if we're going at all."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that. At all."

There was a hint of amusement and smugness in Harry's voice.

"Why not?" asked Ron.

Harry spoke in a near whisper. "Because I already know who you're going with."

"You haven't been spending too much time with Trelawney, have you mate?" asked Ron amused.

Harry simply smiled and pointed at the two.

"You two. You're going together."

Ron and Hermione momentarily looked at each other, before their heads quickly turned back to look at Harry.

"Why?" the two asked in near perfect unison.

"Because I say so. You two owe me one, and this is how you're going to repay me – by going together to the Yule Ball," he declared. "So, unless you want for me to cut all ties, then you better start to practice the waltz."

Something told them that Harry was serious about this. Then again, none was willing to find out if Harry's declaration was true or not.

* * *

This was a nightmare. It really was.

Harry had never noticed how many girls there were at Hogwarts, and now now it seemed that all had spawned out of nowhere. By the end of the week, he had lost count of how many times he had been approached – each time with the same question. Of course, the answer was also always the same. A simple no.

He had not forgotten about the mess during the reflection's "reign" over Hogwarts, and he didn't know who was under his control and who was doing it out of their own free will. And now that he had successfully completed the first task, there were some undoubtedly seeking him out for both his success during the task, and the fact that he was Harry Potter, the vanquisher of Voldemort.

Then again, he did need to go with someone. But he also needed revenge.

"Something on your mind Harry?"

He glanced at Vlad, the older vampire looking at him curiously. "There's going to be a ball."

"I've heard about it."

"And I need to participate."

"I've heard that as well."

"With a dance partner."

Vlad looked puzzled. "Have you asked anyone?"

Harry shook his head.

"Have you been asked by a girl?"

By now Harry had stood up, and was roaming around aimlessly, as if pondering something.

"Several. They all want to be the date of the Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived and Triwizard Champion. I want to have nothing to do with them, the harpies," he declared, his tone nearing a hiss. "I want to crush their hopes and dreams of being 'the one', and I want to do it with one swift stroke."

Vlad spotted an approving look from the Count, who had been distracted from his newspaper.

"But how?"

Harry had spoken in a near inaudible whisper, yet the two Draculas heard it very clearly.

"Are you sure you want to do that Harry? You'll be giving them actual reasons to hate you," said Vlad, concerned that whatever Harry was trying to plan would backfire horribly.

"Don't care. Besides, they'll all be dead in a few decades," said Harry. "What's a few decades to eternity?"

Something had changed in harry, Vlad was certain. All half-fangs changed when their transformation was complete. From what he had known and heard of 'Harry the wizard', this new version of Harry seemed to be a bit more… extreme in his methods. He worried that Harry would become a twisted version of his past self, but of now it seemed that it had not happened.

He noticed that Harry had suddenly stopped, his head rising as if he had an epiphany.

"Harry?"

The wizard turned around, an ominous grin on his face.

"I have an idea."

* * *

The entrance hall of Hogwarts was packed with students, all dressed differently than usual, engaged in either causal talk or waiting for their partners or friends to arrive – possibly both. Harry saw that down there were already Ron and Hermione, and he had to say that he never imagined seeing his friend the way she was today, and he nearly gaped when he saw her. The contrast between her and Ron was visible, but both seemed rather pleased with themselves for some reason.

Harry wondered if he had accidentally matched them up.

Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Matched.

Not a very flattering title, to be honest, and it made him sound like one of those charlatans who usually appeared in the publicity section of muggle newspapers. Speaking of titles, could he still be counted as the "Boy Who Lived, considering he was now dead? Then again, the epithet was about him having survived the killing curse.

" _Still be Boy-Who-Lived then,"_ he thought.

He went down the stairs, Ron and Hermione quickly noticing him.

"Harry!" called out Hermione.

He smiled, walking towards them.

"So… who's your partner?" asked Ron, noticing that Harry was alone.

Harry's mischievous smile told them that it was not anyone they expected. "They'll be arriving soon."

Neither Ron nor Hermione missed that Harry had used "they" instead of referring to his partner by either "he" or "she". He was really insisting on keeping his companion's identity secret, although both thought it odd that Harry found it necessary to hide his partner's gender.

Harry seemed to be glancing around, as if looking for something. His gaze seemed to be fixed on the staircase of the hall, and soon enough a single word from his came.

"Finally!"

Ron and Hermione looked towards the source of Harry's comment, and what they saw surprised them, and it was Hermione who spoke.

"Vladimir?"

Surprisingly dissimilar from the dress robes of the students, Vlad's attire was far more… aristocratic, was the best word the could find. In general, almost everything was black – the pants, the shoes, and the tailcoat. The only thing that were not black were the shirt and waistcoat, both white. However, the cloak over his shoulders and fastened around his neck with a thin metal chain was black on the outside, its interior made of a red-coloured silk, near invisible slits made there allowing his hands to pass through.

Ron and Hermione's incredulity were evident on their faces. Vlad on the other hand, seemed to be in a mixture of amusement and nervousness.

"You took your time," commented Harry, while Ron and Hermione looked at both him and Vlad with incredulity.

"You're going together?"

"Remember when I had all those girls asking me to go with the to the ball?" Harry asked, receiving a nod from the two. "Well, I haven't forgot about all that mess after the selection. Some may have been under the influence of whatever attacked me, but others weren't. I want to make it clear that I want to have nothing to do with any of them, and what better way to do that than to go with Vlad?"

"It was his idea," Vlad said immediately. "I'm still wondering why I went with it."

Oddly enough, the Count had received the plan quite well, calling it genius, cruel, and devious. Sometimes Vlad wondered what was going on inside his father's head – and later he would regret wondering it. Yet he now had a certainty about Harry – he was more towards the mischievous side of trouble than the bloody side of it.

On the other hand, this was a possible murder of any possible future relationships for Harry at Hogwarts (and the Wizarding World too if word of this got out, which it likely would).

"Bloody hell mate, that's… brilliant?" Ron wasn't sure of what exactly to call Harry's plan.

"I would say reckless," said Hermione. "Harry, imagine if Skeeter gets her hands on this!"

Harry just shrugged, determined to carry forward his plan. "I'm kind of hoping she does."

None of them missed the glint of mischievous excitement that was present in Harry's eye and general behaviour. In fact, they had never seen Harry like this, and he seemed to be truly enjoying himself.

"Mister Potter and… Mister Count?"

Professor McGonagall had come, apparently to organize the groups, and Harry and Vlad managed to keep a straight face at her shocked expression. Some of the nearby students had also heard the Transfiguration professor and turned to look at both Harry and Vlad. Some looked profoundly shocked, as if Harry had just killed a kitten in cold blood, others looked disinterested, while a few looked amused.

If this was the general reaction of the students of Hogwarts, then Harry knew his plan would be a complete success.

His reputation be damned. He was enjoying this.

* * *

_ **Author's Note:** _

This is one of the longest chapters I have ever written for a story. Also, if you want a visual of what Vlad's wearing, go ans search for pictures of Béla Lugosi's Dracula.


	8. The Final Tasks

_**Chapter 8 – The Final Tasks** _

The effect of going with Vlad to the ball had been nearly instantaneous. The looks of scorn in the faces of many girls during the ball had been enough proof, and the whisperings were too. But he cared little about it. From the dance to the feast, the Yule Ball had been perfect, and he had to say that Vlad really knew how to dance. Ron and Hermione really seemed to be having fun as well, so he supposed that his good deed had been done, no matter how forceful it had been.

On the other hand, Vlad was now the target of leers from not only several girls, but surprisingly enough, a very small number of boys as well. Vlad was lucky he was away from the castle's inhabitants for most of the year, free of their dramas and "teenage plots".

Harry knew he himself wasn't.

In the days that came, the events of the ball became known to the wizard community, his partnership with Vladimir becoming known as well. Rita Skeeter had published a quite elaborate article in the Daily Prophet about it, her choice of words regarding both Vlad and himself being quite… poor. The howlers and cursed letters he received from disappointed so-called "future Mrs. Potters" was quite large, but Hermione had burned them all with the Incendio charm, which he had been glad about.

But then came the rest of Skeeter's articles, most about things she wasn't supposed to know. To his luck, there was nothing about him being a vampire, or the true identity of the Draculas, but he wouldn't put it past Skeeter to discover something about it.

Yet eventually came a special dusk. He was alone inside the Dracula Tower, doing his homework, the window open, allowing a fresh breeze inside. Vlad was somewhere, doing something, and the Count was still asleep.

But Harry had been distracted from his work by a peculiar and vaguely familiar smell.

A very peculiar smell. Undoubtedly of perfume, which could only belong to someone, and it was coming from… a beetle?

Oh.

"Rita, you devious little roach," thought Harry, sneakily glancing at the source of the weak smell. "Found you!"

In a swift move, he cast a stunning spell towards the small black beetle resting on the window-sill. The animagus was unharmed, but it slumped over without making a sound. Harry approached the stunned beetle and rolled it over with the tip of his wand, the markings around its eyes confirming his suspicions.

Perhaps it was time to place his vampire powers to the test, and see if Vlad's tutoring was paying off. But before that…

" _Wingardium Leviosa_!"

He levitated the beetle, placing it on the flood, before pointing his wand at it again.

" _Revelio_!"

The beetle quickly became larger, as if it was bloated, before it morphed into a humanoid shape, finally settling on that of Rita Skeeter.

" _Incarcerous_!"

Ropes were shot out from the tip of his wand, coiling around Rita's body as if snakes. Harry couched down, taking the witch's wand from her, not wanting her to escape. Perhaps he needed another spell to help with that. " _Petrificus Totalus_!"

Skeeter's body became rigid, as if encased in an invisible ice, and Harry prepared himself for the last spell, remembering it being used by Amos Diggory to revive an unconscious Winky.

" _Rennervate_!" he said.

Skeeter did not move, but her eyes opened, clearly expressing panic.

"Hello Rita," he said crouching down next to her head. "Fancy seeing you here."

Harry twirled her wand in his hand, making sure she saw it.

"I don't usually do this… and it's likely that the others would disapprove. But what they don't know can't harm them, right?"

He looked directly at her eyes, preparing himself for what he was about to do.

"When I snap my fingers, you will not remember anything that happened here. However, you have a newfound loyalty to me, and will obey my orders without question."

Rita's eyes were glazed, as if she was staring into infinity. If anyone was to look at Harry, they would see that his eyes were not greet, but of a sickly yellow colour.

He snapped his fingers, and after a few moments of not seeing any changes in Rita, she suddenly blinked, her eyes quickly looking around confused. Harry got up and pointed his wand at her, dispelling the ropes and the body-bind.

"Miss Skeeter, fancy seeing you here," he said.

She got up, clearly disoriented. "Harry, hello," she said, her voice in a mixture of confusion and her characteristic tone. "Am I at Hogwarts?"

"Indeed, you are Rita. Do you know what to do now?"

She shook her head.

"Well, you really should be going and open a few closets in the homes of the blood-purists," he ordered. "See if you can find a few skeletons there – you know, for your articles. Think of how much gossip those will cause."

He handed her hand back, which she took hesitantly, still a bit confused.

"No need to go out the normal way," he said. "You little secret's safe with me. Go, now… I'll be in touch."

She nodded dumbly, her form shifting back into a beetle which flew right out of the open window.

Harry simply watched as she left, a small smile on his face.

* * *

Having Rita Skeeter under his control was quickly proving to be a rather amusing asset. Truly, when she was not targeting him or his friends, but the leeches of the wizarding world who silently supported the efforts of Voldemort and the anti-muggle agenda, Skeeter could be a great source of amusement.

But he could not focus on Skeeter forever. Her threat had been neutralized, and now he had to focus on what was important.

The Second Task and the Golden Egg.

He still had no idea of what to do with it, and the day of the task was quickly arriving. Neither Ron nor Hermione had any idea about what the horrid screeching from the egg could mean. Yet his salvation came from the most unexpected source – the Count himself.

"Ugh! Reminds me of that Siren I tried to bite in my youth," he complained upon hearing the noise, intensified by his vampiric hearing. "Damned thing screeched like a banshee above water."

Sirens. They were a type of merpeople, and if he recalled correctly, there was a colony of merpeople in the Black Lake. Could this mean that the next task was related to merpeople?

Harry put the links together, and with a basin filled with water, large enough to give bath to a human toddler, he dropped the egg inside, and opened it. The water had muffled the sound, but it was clear that whatever was coming from inside the egg was not the screeching of before. It had been obvious what he had to do. Harry put his head inside the basin and heard the clue of the egg. The voice was beautiful and seductive, and it spoke of something precious that had been taken from him and that he would need to recover.

He had no idea what his "precious thing" could be, and he spend the days until the Second Task occasionally wondering what exactly would be taken from him. And truly, until the day of the task, he remained oblivious to what it was.

But then the task presented another problem. It was going to take place underwater… at nightfall.

He couldn't breathe underwater, true – except he had no need to breathe at all. The only thing he needed to worry about was the underwater darkness, further enhanced by the dim light coming from above, which would become dimmer with each passing minute.

Evading the Grindylows had been a bit difficult, and Harry was lucky they had not overrun him before he managed to escape the small horde. But in time, he came upon what looked like a group of underwater ruins, guarded by many merpeople, armed with pole-like weapons. There, bound by ropes and floating as if lifeless dolls were four human shapes.

He quickly approached them, unimpeded by the merpeople colony which simply observed him, and he saw exactly who was trapped there.

Vlad.

Whoever had organized this task had deemed the other vampire as that which he valued most, and they weren't wrong about it. He valued Vladimir greatly, as both a friend and as a mentor of sorts. He too valued Ron and Hermione, yet despite the relationship he had with the two, there was something that they lacked, and which Vlad had – something which Harry wasn't quite sure what it was. He had a few guesses, and the one that appealed to him the most was that he had a special connection to Vlad due to him being his maker. Of the others there, the only other he recognized was Cho, and she was likely supposed to be rescued by Cedric.

Approaching Vlad's immobile and seemingly unconscious body, and still under the watchful eye of the merpeople, Harry used a sharp rock to hack the ropes restraining Vlad, eventually succeeding in doing so. Grabbing Vlad's hand, he swam upwards, occasionally glancing down to see if anyone else arrived. He saw another figure approach the hostages but only briefly.

He had already reached the surface.

* * *

What followed the Second Task wasn't exactly an uneventful period. He tried to have a meeting with Sirius, but since that could only happen during the day, he had to send an excuse to his godfather, claiming that they couldn't meet just yet.

And then there was the business with Mr. Crouch, who had suddenly appeared, bloodied and with his clothes ragged after he had spoken with Ludo Bagman near the Forbidden Forest. The blood was dry and old, so it did not spark within Harry the animalistic instinct to attack Mr. Crouch, but something was clearly wrong with the man, who seemed to have moments of clarity before returning to what seemed to be insanity.

It was what he said, that scared Harry the most.

"I… escaped… must warn… must tell… see Dumbledore… my fault… all my fault… Bertha dead… my son… tell Dumbledore… Harry Potter… the Dark Lord… stronger…"

He was alone, and he was not about to leave a near insane Crouch unattended. There was only one thing he could do.

" _Stupefy_!"

The spell hit Crouch directly, the old man slumping unconscious to the ground. Taking hold of the man, Harry ran as fast as he could to the entrance of Dumbledore's office. To his luck, the password was still the same, and he entered the office, Dumbledore inside.

"Harry, what – "

"Professor, I found Mr. Crouch in the forest!"

Dumbledore had immediately called Madam Pomfrey to his office. The witch examined the unconscious Crouch, as Harry related to Dumbledore all that had happened since Crouch's appearance.

"I'm afraid we have to wait until Barty returns to a more viable state before we can get anything from him."

"I can't work with this headmaster. The mind arts are beyond my skills," declared Pomfrey. "We'll have to transfer him to St Mungos."

Dumbledore nodded. "I will make the preparations. Take Mr. Couch to the hospital wing and keep his presence a secret."

Pomfrey nodded, levitating Crouch into a stretcher, before casting a spell upon him, the figure of Barty Crouch becoming invisible. She then left the room, leaving Harry alone with Dumbledore.

"Sir?"

There was an air of unease inside the office, and Harry could tell that Dumbledore was deeply in thought about something.

"It seems that Voldemort's web reaches farther than I expected," said Dumbledore. "Your description of Barty's condition heavily suggests he was, with great trouble, resisting the effects of the Imperius curse. This would suggest that he was Voldemort's agent here, if not for the fact that Barty has been missing for many months."

"So, is there someone else?"

Dumbledore nodded, a grim expression on his face. "Indeed. As you said before Harry, it seems that Bertha has indeed been killed by Voldemort, and that he is regaining his power."

"What should we do?"

"Until Barty regains his mental faculties, which can very likely take months, I'm afraid there is little we can do."

Yet what Dumbledore feared, was that by then, Voldemort's plan could have already succeeded.

-line breaker-

The maze was not what Harry was expecting. As with the second task, no one could see what was happening inside it, which gave Harry liberty to use his vampiric abilities. From the smells he caught, he recognized quite a few, yet there were some he had no idea about. He quickly realized that there were both Blast-Ended Skrewts and Acromantulas inside the maze, as well as other unfamiliar creatures.

He tried to avoid as much obstacles as he could, but it was inevitable that he would find some on the way. A boggart disguised as a Dementor was one of them, as well as a sphinx, whose riddle he managed to solve. His speed was truly a blessing, as it wasn't long before he reached what he wanted.

The Triwizard Cup.

He had not found any other of the remaining Champions, and now the key to end all this was here. Harry grabbed the cup, doing what any other would do, but he did not expect to feel himself being squeezed through a tube, or his surroundings collapsing into a mess of colours before settling on what seemed to be an open space.

He had collapsed on the ground, the cup rolling away from him, stopping when it bumped into a grave. He stood up, a bit disoriented, and looked around. He was in the middle of a graveyard, likely far away from Hogwarts, as he saw none of the mountains that surrounded the castle.

He then felt something slamming on his back, throwing towards a tall grave. He managed to turn around, but a set of ropes had him suddenly bound to the gravestone. He then saw his attacker, a cloaked figure carrying a small bundle on its arms. It deposited it on the ground, before approaching Harry, who then saw exactly who had attacked him.

"You!"

It had been Wormtail, who was now checking the tightness of the ropes, before stuffing a black material into Harry's mouth preventing him from speaking. Harry wasn't sure about what to do. He knew that there was much he could lose by suddenly revealing his new powers, and he wasn't sure he could properly escape the ropes before attracting Wormtail's attention.

He watched as the traitor prepared what seemed to be a large cauldron, lighting a fire beneath it, before revealing what was inside the bundle – a small and deformed thing, shaped like an emaciated human child, with features that did not belong in a normal human. Wormtail took hold of it, before dropping the thing inside the cauldron, causing an audible and visible splash.

Wormtail then approached the grave whose headstone Harry had been bound to, and cracked it open with a spell. He then spoke, slowly raising his wand.

" _Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"_

A trickle of dust rose from the cracked grave, floating as Wormtail guided it towards the cauldron, before it fell softly into the liquid. He then took a long knife, and spoke in a whimpering voice filled with sobs.

" _Flesh - of the servant - w-willingly given - you will - revive - your master."_

Harry didn't look. There was a sickening sound, followed by a splash, as something fell inside the cauldron. He heard the whimpers and moans of Wormtail, and he had no doubt that he had cut off something from his body. As he kept with the charade of breathing, Harry looked at what Wormtail had done, and took a small breath.

And then the smell hit him.

The stump where the hand of Wormtail had once been was now bleeding profoundly, and no matter how repulsive the little traitor was, the smell was still the same for Harry. It was still blood, and he could already feel his fangs starting to protrude. He had to resist this – he simply had to. He knew what the hideous baby-like thing was, and how it could escape being destroyed, only to attempt something else. And if he knew what Harry had become, then fighting against it would be far harder than he wanted.

And he could not just kill Wormtail there. Death was too good for him.

" _B-blood of the enemy… forcibly taken… you will… resurrect your foe."_

He could do nothing without showing his hand, and so Harry resigned himself to hissing in pain as he felt the knife cut up his arm, and watched as a few drops of blood trickled down, Wormtail quickly catching them with a small glass vial. Whatever they were trying to do, it required blood – his blood.

Blood which was now stale.

Harry said and did nothing, simply watched as Wormtail dropped the blood into the boiling cauldron, before staggering away from it. He wasn't sure of what exactly had happened next, as a mass of vapour emerged from the cauldron. But when it settled, he saw that a tall and skeletal man had risen from within it.

"Robe me," said the man in a cold and high voice, Wormtail scrambling to pick up a set of black robes from the ground, handing them to the figure.

Harry had no need of a scar to know who the man was. It was clear enough to him, especially when said man stared directly at him, his facing having been one he had seen in many of his nightmares. And it was now clear why he had been entered into the Triwizard Tournament. It was not so that he would die competing, but a trap designed to bring him into the clutches of Lord Voldemort.

And then Voldemort began to speak with him, talking about his muggle father and how he had abandoned his mother upon discovering she was a witch. It was not a long monologue, but when the Death Eaters arrived right afterwards, he began to speak again, and so did the Death Eaters, begging for forgiveness. In time, Harry had a silent sigh of relief as he saw that Voldemort had conjured a silver hand for Wormtail, the smell of fresh blood dissipating, yet the fragrance of it imbibed in his blood-soaked clothes was not. At least the smell wasn't as strong now.

It was then that Harry saw Voldemort's attention turned once more towards him, speaking of how the mere notion of a child defeating him was ridiculous and how he would prove there that he was the most powerful wizard. He claimed that he wanted to duel, but Harry knew that this "duel" was a farce. Voldemort wanted to humiliate him before killing him, that much was certain. The Cruciatus curse which followed had been enough proof for that. Never had he experienced such pain. It was as if every single nerve of his body had been set on fire.

Yet he did not give him the pleasure of obeying the Imperius curse. He had enough experience with that one due to Moody's classes. He was attacked once more with the Cruciatus curse, which he dodged by going behind a grave stone. Voldemort taunted him once more, and Harry knew that he could not just give up by hiding.

He was not about to give Voldemort that pleasure. He prepared himself, his wand at the ready, and as he stepped away from his hiding spot, he already had the spell on his lips.

"Expelliarmus!"

But Voldemort had his as well. " _Avada Kedavra_!"

The two spells connected mid-air, the jets of red and green light suddenly turning into a golden beam. Harry felt himself raised in the air and saw that Voldemort had been as well. And then the thread connecting the two split, forming a domed cage of countless golden threads. A sound filled the air, one which Harry recognized as the song of a phoenix – the most beautiful thing he could hear in this situation, and he felt himself filled with hope, knowing that he could not break the connection between himself and Voldemort.

What followed next was far stranger and mystical, as something began to happen with Voldemort's wand, odd sounds – as if screams of pain – coming from it. And then, unexpectedly, a strange ghostly shape appeared from it, that of a hand. It then vanished, and ghostly figures came from Voldemort's wand, who encouraged him... amongst them those of his mother and father. Their distraction gave him enough time to break the connection between the wands, and Harry scrambled towards the cup as fast as he could.

Despite the confusion, Voldemort had somehow managed to find him, and Harry heard his enemy's high-pitched voice once more.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

Yet he had already reached the cup, his hand grasping the handle and feeling as if he was squeezed into a tube. It was followed by a sudden burst of green light and a brief feeling on his back, as if someone had either punched him, or thrown a small pebble at him.

* * *

What a turn of events it had been. He had won the Triwizard Cup, yet Voldemort had returned as well. To Harry's credit, his suspicions about Moody had been correct – well, half-correct, since that had not been the real Moody, but Barty Crouch Jr., a Death Eater masquerading as the real one. Unfortunately, Fudge simply refused to believe that Voldemort had returned, even after being shown the mark of Snape's arm, one which Harry had briefly seen in both Wormtail and in Barty.

When Crouch's interrogation was over, Harry had been quickly brought by the headmaster into his office, where Sirius had been waiting. There, Harry told the two most of what had happened in the graveyard, leaving out a few things that Sirius did not need to know, but he would likely tell Dumbledore later.

He learned of the _Priori Incantatem_ , of how his and Voldemort's wands were connected by their twin cores. And how the "ghosts" had not been ghosts at all but echoes of those upon whom the Killing Curse had been cast with Voldemort's wand. Afterwards, he was taken to a side chamber in the Hospital Wing, Sirius now transformed into a dog. There, a group of people were waiting for him, specifically Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, Hermione, and Vladimir – who looked exceptionally gloomy.

As soon as he saw him, the other vampire was practically all over him.

"Harry, what happened? Are you alright?" he asked, grasping the younger teen's shoulders.

Harry gave a small nod, feeling a bit numb from all that had happened.

"I would ask that you leave us for a few moments, as I need to discuss something private with Harry and Vladimir," said Dumbledore.

The others left reluctantly, leaving Harry alone with Dumbledore, Vladimir, and the transformed Sirius. When the door was closed, Dumbledore waved his wand, casting a non-verbal spell Harry could not recognize.

"A rather ingenious creation of Professor Snape," said the headmaster. "It will give us some privacy. Sirius, I believe you can transform back."

Vlad looked confused, and Sirius simply looked at Vladimir, as if trying to tell something to Dumbledore.

"He can be trusted," confirmed Dumbledore.

Vlad was now looking at the dog, having realized that Dumbledore had been talking to it. He gawked at the animal, who seemed to nod at the headmaster's statement, and suddenly began to morph in a way that should not be possible. It was almost instant, as there was no longer a dog, but an adult and clothed man in its place.

"What."

While he had assumed that this Sirius was the godfather Harry had spoken about, Vlad was completely stunned by the fact that the man could turn into a dog. Sure, there was that mess with his half-brother as well, but he was a werewolf, and born werewolves looked like dogs during childhood. And he knew that werewolves could not transform at will.

"He's an animagus. Didn't I tell you that?" said Harry, noticing Vlad's reaction.

The other shook his head. "No. I didn't know wizards could turn into animals."

"It takes a lot of practice. My dad could turn into a stag, and Professor McGonagall can turn into a cat. Wouldn't be surprised if Snape could turn into a bat."

Vlad thought this to be very strange. He abhorred the very idea of shapeshifting, specifically into a bat – an ability universally shared by all vampires – and yet wizards harnessed their own version of shapeshifting, turning themselves into various animals. While vampires were evil by nature, wizards did not seem to share this trait, and their minds worked in the same way as those of magicless breathers. And his relief, Harry had not inherited completely the "evilness" of vampires – he did not want to have either another Ingrid, or worse, another Boris. And yet if these two distinct people shared an ability such as shapeshifting, could it be as bad as he thought it to be?

Here he was, in front of Albus Dumbledore, a man renowned even in the vampire community as the greatest wizard of all times and a major opponent of the Dark Arts. A man who also likely possessed the ability to turn into an animal, who was anything but evil.

Perhaps it was time to reconsider his beliefs.

"Ron and Hermione know about me, why aren't they were too?" asked Sirius, his voice returning Vlad from his thoughts.

"Because of Vladimir and Harry," declared Dumbledore. "It is best that Sirius knows, especially for what is to come."

Harry and Vlad knew what Dumbledore spoke of – the fact that the two were vampires, or at least that Harry was one. He was still anxious to know what Sirius's reaction to it would be, and only hoped that his godfather wouldn't overreact.

"Know what?" asked Sirius.

"Vlad's a vampire," said Harry.

"Really? Heh, your father got the werewolf and you get the vampire," said Sirius amused. "You seem to be beacons for that kind of thing."

Harry sighed. "I'm as well, Sirius."

"You're what as well?"

"A vampire. I'm a vampire too."

Those words completely changed Sirius's demeanour.

"Who turned you?" asked Sirius, his tone demanding.

Harry was not about to jump to conclusions, but the fact that Sirius's first reaction was asking who had turned him was rather… heartening. Although in this case, his newfound aggression was not very welcome, considering who had turned him.

"I did." Vlad had answered, his voice calm and without fear.

"You what?" snarled Sirius.

"He was attacked and was near death," said Vlad. "He was either turned, or he died."

The mention of Harry being attacked and nearly being killed nearly made Sirius's skin turn pale, but his eyes widened enough that they seemed to nearly come out of their sockets.

"Attacked? When? And why was I not informed?"

"It was right after I was chosen as a Triwizard Champion," said Harry. "I was outside on the grounds and stumbled upon a feral vampire near the forest. He was the one that attacked me. Vlad found me and staked the other vampire, but my blood had already been drained."

It was a lie of course, but Sirius didn't need to know the entire story. Vlad and Dumbledore knew that well, and both went with the story.

"That's what Blood-Replenishing potions are for," pointed out Sirius.

"The bite wounds would not close," explained Vlad. "Blood kept spurting from them. They only closed after I turned Harry."

"I'm afraid Mister Dracula is correct," said Dumbledore. "Had he not been turned, Harry would have died that day."

The mention of him dying reminded Harry of something important, which in all the chaos, he somehow forgot to mention to Dumbledore.

"Professor, I forgot to mention something," he said, already expecting the reactions. "I was hit with the Killing Curse."

There was a moment of silence in the room, and Harry could hear the sharp intake of breath in those present. Dumbledore stared at him, his face slowly expressing an emotion one would rarely find in the headmaster's face - stupefaction. "Harry?"

"Right before I grabbed the cup, he used it… and it hit me right as I disappeared," said Harry. "There was a flash of green, and I felt as if someone had punched me in the back. Didn't turn into dust, so I guess it doesn't work with vampires."

If he was right, then Voldemort's greatest weapon against him had been completely neutralized. On the other hand, it was possible that Voldemort saw him being hit with the curse, or perhaps not, due to the low visibility granted by the tombstones and the darkened skies. There was no doubt that Voldemort's curse had hit him as he was transported out of the graveyard – the burst of green light and the oddly painless feeling of being punched in the back made it clear that the curse had hit him, yet without leaving another scar.

But if Voldemort knew that the Avada Kedavra no longer worked, then there was the danger that the Dark Lord would seek other means to kill him. On the bright side, Voldemort had no idea he was a vampire.

"If Voldemort doesn't know, then this must be kept from him as long as possible," said the headmaster. "He may try to use other methods to ensure your demise."

Harry nodded, having reached that conclusion before.

"I received a notice that the villa complex in Caligon has been restored. The house-elves were quite successful, although they complained about a ghost which kept bothering them and speaking in a strange language," warned Dumbledore. "You may have company there."

Sirius was once more lost.

"Hold on, what villa complex? And Caligon?"

Harry and Dumbledore explained to Sirius what had been revealed to the two a few months ago, the story about the hidden archipelago and Harry's connection to it having been unknown to Sirius. When all had been told, the animagus thought about it for a brief moment.

"I don't think your father knew," said Sirius. "James never mentioned it, and neither did his parents when I lived with them. Imagine it - King James Potter… Snape would have a fit if he knew about it."

"He will when he learns that Harry is one," said Vlad.

It was as if Sirius's day had suddenly been brightened. "Good point."

"I took the liberty of speaking with Anacletus, who came with me to the islands to oversee its protections. Highly remarkable, I have to say," said Dumbledore, genuine awe escaping his voice. "I have no doubt you will be safe there from Voldemort and his Death Eaters."

Dumbledore had indeed been impressed by the protections which surrounded the isles. He had herald only legends and myths – and regrettably he had never went searching to truth in them – but Caligon's mist was truly something which could be considered one of the wonders of the wizarding world, especially since it had been raised during the classical period and was still in perfect shape. Curiously enough, a bit of research revealed that most information about the island in medieval British sources did not refer to is as Caligon, but instead as Hy-Brasil, a term of Irish origin which would explain why there was little information about Caligon.

It was not the name used for the islands in Britain.

"I'm not going there to hide!" protested Harry.

"Indeed, you are not. But the islands will serve as a haven for you and will give you a protection equivalent to the bond that once existed between you and your aunt. At the end of this year, I shall provide the means for you to travel there."

Dumbledore waved his wand once more, dispelling the charm he had previously cast.

"Now, I believe it is time for you to rest, Harry."

* * *

Turns out Fudge had the brilliant idea of bringing a dementor with him to the castle – one which had immediately kissed Crouch Jr. upon arrival. Harry wasn't quite sure what to think about this, but the fact that Fudge had someone who had been manipulating the tournament in order to bring back Voldemort made him think that either Fudge was under the Imperius curse, or he was in cahoots with the Death Eaters. Or he was just simply incompetent. None of these possibilities appealed to him.

Regardless, he refused to accept that Voldemort had returned, and Dumbledore predicted that if the Minister continued down this path, then he would very likely work against them. In the end, the tournament was over, and no one had miraculously died. The day before the Hogwarts Express came, Cedric had congratulated him, saying that while he had not personally won, it was still a victory for Hogwarts.

But of course, he could not leave in the Express. He was going to leave at night, but not before doing something. Having said his goodbyes, Harry quickly returned to the tower where he had lived for the last few months and climbed the stairs to the floor which served as Vlad's room, the transformed Sirius following him. The vampire was nearly slumped over a table filled with newspapers, as if trying to find something.

"What are you doing?" asked Harry.

"Trying to find a new place for us to live," said Vlad, clearly tired of looking for places. "The arrangement with Dumbledore was only for this year, and he says that by the way things are going, our presence would not be welcome here by your ministry next year."

Harry nodded, ignoring the sound of Sirius transforming back into a human.

"There are many places I could choose, but dad's insisting on a castle," he continued, exasperated. "You don't exactly find castles for sale, now do you? And the last one we had was overrun by slayers, and then taken over by my sister!"

"You could come and live with me."

His suggestion had not the reaction he was expecting, as Vlad looked at him as if he had grown another head.

"Harry, I'm not – "

Yet Vlad was quickly interrupted by his vampiric offspring.

"Muggles can't see or find the islands. Wizards no longer kill vampires due to regulations established by the International Confederation, and since slayers are muggles we should be safe there, right?"

Vlad looked apprehensive.

"Are you sure Harry?" he asked.

"Of course! Do you think I want to be alone on an island for the rest of summer? For the rest of eternity? Besides, you said it yourself – you need somewhere to live."

Vlad sighed, but Harry saw the hint of a smile on his friend's face.

"I have to speak with dad about it."

Harry smiled. "What are you waiting for?" he asked, motioning towards the room's entrance.

"Here goes nothing," muttered Vlad as he disappeared from the room, his speed making Sirius take a step back.

"Morgana's saggy tits, he's fast!"

Harry laughed lightly, before turning to his godfather with a proposition in mind.

"You could come as well, Sirius," said Harry, hopeful that his godfather would accept. "No need to hide in caves. The Ministry has no power in the isles."

Sirius had been taken by surprise, the thought of being invited to live with Harry never crossing his mind. He had wanted before to have Harry living with him, as it should have been had he not been captured and falsely accused by the Ministry. But Peter's escape had prevented that from happening, and now the bastard had returned to his master. He could think of a few ways he could make the traitor pay for what he had done, but he could leave revenge for later.

They really needed a new beginning after all.

All of them.


	9. Caligon

**_ Chapter 9 - Caligon _ **

"Well… I wasn't expecting this."

The sun had already passed beyond the horizon, and dusk fell upon the twelve islands of Caligon. The red sky gave whatever light it could to the ancient city of Actoria Augusta, capital of the equally ancient Kingdom of Caligon. From the ruined port, the walls which once surrounded the old capital were close, the ruins of the city beyond them.

Harry, Sirius, and the Dracula household had arrived at the archipelago – although the Count was still inside his coffin - Dumbledore having provided them the means to arrive there without any problems. Oddly enough, while they had been expecting for Renfield to pass out, he did not. Although a bit sceptical, he accepted the existence of magic with little problem.

Yet for some reason, vampires still caused Renfield to pass out.

"It's the mind wipe," had explained Vlad. "He sees any vampires or things specifically related to vampires and he passes out. Too powerful to remove."

"What about the coffins?" asked Sirius as he glanced at Renfield's fallen form.

"He thinks we're eccentric."

They walked towards the walls, the gate's wooden doors having fallen, allowing them passage, with Sirius levitating the Count's coffin behind them. There were many ruined buildings, things that looked taken from a book about ancient Rome. In the distance, Harry could clearly see what seemed to be a temple on top of a hill with columns made of red marble.

"This must have looked amazing in its prime," said Sirius, enjoying his newfound freedom.

The main road led them up the hill, passing by another gatehouse into what seemed to be the main area of the city. To their right was the temple which they had seen when at the harbour, and in front of them was the ruins of the old forum. Many other buildings littered this area, some in better state than others, but all decayed by time. In time, they arrived at another wall, this one with another golden gate. Having crossed the gateway, Harry saw what exactly had been expecting him. From a distance, he had no clear view of what the palace complex was, and thus had no clear idea of what it looked like. But now… now he could see everything.

Beyond the golden gate was a paved road, its stones so small that they looked like mosaics. Like the roads of the other districts, this one was too in great disrepair, grass and flowers growing in the spaces between the stones. In each side of the road were what were likely once ornate promenades, beyond them buildings whose purpose was beyond Harry's understanding. There were statues as well - some broken while others were relatively intact – alongside columns which decorated the street, together with empty fountains, some with a little water, possibly from the rain.

If this area was the palace district, then the building at the end – contrasting with the others due to its pristine condition – was the palace itself.

"Bloody hell, this is ridiculous!" Harry said, taking in the size of the building.

The private residence had been built on another hill, and to get there they had to climb four marble stairways, each leading to a platform decorated with small gardens, statues, and fountains. At the top of them was an even larger garden, with a small paved road leading into the entrance of the palace. The building was tall, its entrance semi-circular and the walls decorated with many columns, statues, and small windows. The entryway was a golden gate with its arch made of red marble, above it a large plaque decorated with an inscription in Latin.

"What do you say Harry?" asked Sirius teasingly. "Palace fit for a king, no?"

Vlad decided to join in. "Think he has a throne too?"

"They could have warned me about the size of it!" protested Harry, a bit overwhelmed by the structure.

"Welcome home," said Vlad.

They had finally reached the entrance. It was a large square chamber, the floor made out of mosaics and the walls decorated with frescoes. Curiously enough, there was no furniture.

"I think this is more of a 'large rooms' palace, than one with many rooms," said Vlad. "This entrance is huge."

Renfield was already having nightmares about having to clean this whole thing.

"You go and see if you can find the living area," said Harry to the three. "I'll see if I can find the ghost."

Harry walked towards one of the corridors, Sirius, Vlad and Renfield going together into another, the Count's coffin floating behind them. Harry walked slowly, eventually entering a small cloistered courtyard. The grass was trimmed, a shallow pool in the middle filled with water. But what had attracted his attention was not the pool, but what floated above it.

It was a ghost – specifically, the ghost of a man dressed in a manner like that of Anacletus, although seemingly more refined. The ghost's hair was short and sported no beard in his face, itself of sharp features. Yet as Harry had spotted the ghost, it had also spotted Harry at the same time.

"You!" the ghost pointed at Harry, approaching him. "You are of the bloodline!"

Harry had not missed that the ghost had not spoken in English, but a very strange version of Latin.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, now speaking in that very language, unaware of how exactly he was capable of such a feat.

"You are one of the Actorii, or at least you descend from us," said the ghost. "There's no doubt about it. I can sense it."

This was a weird one. As far as he knew, ghosts could sense nothing, and the only thing they could do in the mortal world was both talk and leave ectoplasm behind them.

"Who are you?" asked Harry. This would go nowhere without him knowing who exactly this ghost was.

"You don't know who I am?" spoke the ghost, astonishment filling his voice. "You speak with the ghost of Honestus, pius and blessed son of King Septimus, and four times Consul of the Senate."

So this man was the son of a former king of Caligon. Curious that one would end up haunting the royal palace.

"Well, I'm the king now," said Harry, walking past the ghost. "And if you were blessed, then why are you a ghost?"

"Technical difficulties. But that's not the point! First those elves appear and begin to repair the villa, and now you come here as well. After nearly a century of abandonment, why come now?"

"I needed somewhere safe to live, and this was the only place available," Harry answered. "Never knew about Caligon until a few months ago."

The ghost turned to him.

"Who told you of this place then?"

"A man called Anacletus Corvinus," answered Harry. "He warned me about a plot made by the Ministry of Magic to take over these islands."

"Which ministry?"

"The British."

"Cowards," snarled Honestus. "They would never try something so unbelievably stupid had Caligon not fallen into ruin!"

"I suppose I could try to restore this place so that they wouldn't try again. I mean, it's all ruins but it could be improved."

"You think you can restore the kingdom?" laughed the ghost. "It's no easy task, especially for a youngster."

"I have eternity to do exactly that."

The choice of words surprised Honestus. "Eternity? Has the path to immortality been found at last?"

Harry did not give him a verbal answer. He simply bared his fangs, further surprising the ghost.

"A wizard and vampire… curious mixture. It's been a long time since I met a hybrid such as you," spoke Honestus, now in a calmer tone. "Curious that the last of our bloodline would fall into undeath."

"I doubt I'm the last. There must be other descendants living across the world."

Honestus huffed. "Figure of speech. Besides, it's poetic. I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"What do you mean, I wouldn't understand? I know about poetry!" Harry claimed.

"Is that so? Then who wrote the Thirteen Voyages of Pelagius?"

Truth be told, he knew nothing about poetry.

"Don't know."

The look of victory in Honestus' face was nothing but smug.

"Oh, sod off." grumbled Harry.

Honestus laughed. Yet he looked at Harry, curiosity filling his face.

"You think you can truly invest yourself into a Caligonese restoration?"

"I can try."

The ghost nodded.

"In trying you either fail or you succeed. Hopefully it's the latter.

"You need to attract the old ones back. The one you spoke before, Corvinus – I know his family. Old blood from Rome and one of the most powerful gentes when the isles were still inhabited. There's shared blood between us, right from the very beginning. Can you count him as an ally?"

"I think so. He seemed very passionate about Caligon."

"Good. Speaking of which, you haven't told me your name yet," pointed out Honestus.

"Harry Potter."

The ghost frowned. "Such a… plebeian name. And foreigner too. We must change that, give your name a Caligonese touch. I suppose that… well, the closest thing to Harry that we have is Harrius, and that was the name adopted by that Celtic trader when he came to live here," said Honestus, now lost in thought. "Bah, it will do. Then comes the adoption, and the – "

Harry had to interrupt him there.

"Adoption?"

"A mere formality, nothing more." said Honestus dismissively. "A way to legitimize your status as rightful king of Caligon. I claim you as my adopted son, and you formally become one of the Actorii Pictores. With my confirmation of your status, there will be no one to seriously oppose your kingship."

"I like my name."

"You can use it in private, if you want. You need legitimacy. When you have enough people here, the Senate and the assemblies must be restored," continued Honestus. "But we shall speak of this later. I also suggest arranging a meeting with the ruler of Avalon. If nothing changed since the last century, a Uriens must still be on the throne. You need to confirm the treaties and alliances made with them. Avalon has been a crucial ally of our kingdom since the war against the druids of Hibernia."

"You warred against druids?" asked Harry perplexed.

"Well of course. The bastards killed both our missionaries and emissaries, sacrificing them to their heathen gods! Morganis herself led the forces of Avalon against them, together with king Lucius. It was a complete slaughter," revealed the ghost. "After the war was over, there was a great celebration and the two agreed to marry Morganis' son Owain with Lucius's sister Sexta, cementing the alliance. We too took a few of their own into our beds in the following years, so our bloodlines are intertwined."

Harry wasn't really interested in hearing a history lesson right now.

"You were talking about Avalon."

"I am still talking about it."

"About their king, not their history."

The ghost waved his hand in dismissal. "We can leave that for another day. Let's talk about a few other things. Your life, to be precise."

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

 

"Got lost yet Harry?"

Vlad had been exploring the palace as well, and the two had now met in the theatre of what Honestus had identified as the Domus Augustana, the residential wing of the palace. Curiously, the theatre was not quite large, possibly due to being only for use by the royal family and its guests.

"Not yet. Good thing you were here, if I had."

"The Count?"

Vlad glanced at the sky, a very dark blue seen in the distant horizon, but all that was above them was a black void filled with stars.

"He'll come out of his coffin soon enough," said the older vampire.

"I'm sure he's not going to get lost. He probably knows this place better than I do," said Harry as he sat down in one of the seating rows.

Vlad was glancing at the ghost, his face expressing that he would like for Harry to introduce him.

"Oh, erm… this is Honestus, the ghost Dumbledore spoke of," said Harry. "Honestus, this is Vladimir Dracula. He's the one who turned me."

"Erm… hello," said Vlad, a bit apprehensive.

Honestus nodded, a bit amused. "Hello as well."

Vlad approached them, sitting down next to Harry.

"Is there a crypt here? Dad won't rest until he's slumbering inside one."

"The closest thing we have to crypts are the mausoleums in Orcus," said Honestus. "And those are out of bounds! If your father wants to sleep underground, he can use the basement."

It was clear that Honestus was very much against the idea of desecrating the burial grounds of his family in order to appease Count Dracula's wish for a "bedroom".

"It's the basement then," said Vlad. "Dad can always give it his personal touch, if he wants."

Harry however, was focused on something else.

"Orcus?"

"One of the isles. It serves as the necropolis of Caligon."

So he now knew the name of at least three islands – Actoria Augusta, Pharus, and Orcus.

"How many cities are there?"

"Just this one. Two if you count the necropolis. The other islands have either villages or towns."

Which probably meant that Caligon's population during it's height wasn't exactly high.

"How many people lived here in your day?" asked Vlad.

"I'm not quite sure. If I had to guess, around thirty thousand people."

Vlad whistled. "That's a lot of wizards."

"And now there's nothing but ruins," said Harry. "A bit of a shame."

"You could always put your wand to use and practice the Reparo spell," suggested Honestus. "You do know how to cast it, don't you?"

"I can't do magic outside of school."

Honestus rolled his eyes. "You're the King of Caligon, not some Norman miscreant. They have no power here, and neither do their laws!"

"Sorry, I keep forgetting about it."

"Then don't. Because right now, it's rather convenient for others to forget it."

* * *

 

The next day had come quickly. Sirius and Renfield had already set up quite a few things in the residential wing, with Harry taking over the royal bedchamber, and Vlad choosing another rather to it. Sirius choose a bedroom close to theirs, while Renfield took residence in what could be best described as the servant's quarters. The Count's quarters were in one of the basement's rooms, his complaints drowned out after he was given authorization to customize the "pseudo-crypt" to his liking.

It was a bit new for Harry, to have a bedroom to call his own. Sure, he had one when he lived with the Dursleys, but it was not actually his. This one, however, was. To call it a bedroom was a bit of an understatement, but since it was what Harry used it for, the term would do.

The royal annex was basically a small Roman domus – one would enter it and find themselves in a small atrium with a small rectangular pool in the middle and a similarly sized opening on the ceiling, a few archways and closed doors giving entrance into small rooms. Beyond the atrium was a small peristyle, to its east a balcony with a magnificent view of the ruined city, while to the west was the bedroom chamber proper, together with the entrance to the bathroom. Harry dispensed the use of a bed, instead placing his coffin there.

But it was dusk now, and he was sitting on a wooden bench at the balcony, a bottle of soy blood on the floor and a filled cup on top of the balustrade.

"Is it any good?"

Harry glanced at Honestus, who had apparently just arrived at the terrace. The ghost's eyes were turned towards the glass, and Harry sighed.

"I guess. Better than Pumpkin Juice."

Much, much better.

It was then that the ghost noticed the label on the bottle.

"My knowledge of English is fragmented, but I can recognize the word for blood. But what is soy? Some sort of southern African or far Asian culture?"

"No, it's a plant. It's used to create a mixture that somehow tastes like human blood and has the same effects."

"So, it's not real? Fascinating…" said Honestus, truly in awe.

In his time, there was no such thing as "soy blood", and to think that a substitute for human blood had been made for consumption by vampires was rather incredible.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't use it in blood transfusions. You may get a minor case of mass organ failure."

"Is this blood popular amongst vampires?"

"Only to those who want to stay away from human blood, which is to say, almost none. Well, there's me and Vlad, and there was also his uncle before he got back into real blood - "

"Harry, you have a visitor!" said Vlad. "A man called Anacletus Corvinus."

Harry's eyes widened comically. He grabbed the cup and downed its contents in one go, grabbing the bottle afterwards and hiding it away inside the bedroom, quickly running back to the terrace as he wiped his mouth.

"Welcome home, your Majesty," said Anacletus as he entered – oblivious to what had just happened – before noticing the ghost. "And the ghost of Consul Honestus, am I correct?"

"Indeed you are, Corvinus," replied Honestus. "How's the family?"

"Fine. Why?"

"Oh, just curious."

Anacletus nodded, a bit sceptical, before looking at the room. As he did this, Honestus floated closer to Harry, and spoke in a low voice.

"My wife was one of them," he whispered, clearly referring to the Corvinus family. "A real piece of work, Decima. And as barren as the soil of Carthage."

Vlad had come to the terrace as well, followed by Sirius. To the relief of the latter, they began to speak in English again.

"Wonderful view of the city," spoke Anacletus as he looked at the city below. "Shame it's in ruins."

"I may want to change that."

Corvinus turned to him, a look of pleased surprise on his face. "You do?"

"And the kingdom if possible."

"Really? It's a surprise, but a good one. However, your condition may be an obstacle to what you plan."

 _His_ _condition_? How did Corvinus know about it?

"You know?"

"It was easy to figure out. The signs are all there for those who can spot them," said Corvinus. "My encounters with the Vampire High Council when I worked in the Dutch Ministry gave me a bit of experience with vampirism. Your mouth is also smudged with blood."

"Oh," muttered Harry as he instinctively brought his sleeve to his mouth. "Can't the British Ministry discover that I'm a vampire?"

It would be bad if his secret got out before he wanted.

"Not in this century or the next, I'm afraid. You think that a Ministry that can't both identify and keep its werewolf population in check is able to do the same with vampires? Trust me, the average British wizard lacks the skill to properly identify a vampire who's trying to blend in. And in their Ministry, you won't find anyone above average."

"You're exaggerating, right?"

Corvinus looked at Sirius with a deadpan expression.

"Am I? The quality of British Aurors has declined heavily ever since Hogwarts began to have a lack of a permanent Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. You think quality is improved by having a new professor each year, each with their own teaching styles?" asked Anacletus. "The Dutch newspaper poked fun at you lot for a week when that buffoon Gilderoy Lockart was selected as the Defence teacher."

"Didn't know Lockhart was disliked," said Harry. "I remember he had quite a following."

Anacletus scoffed. "In Britain, perhaps – but not in the rest of the world. All of his books were analysed by experts in several countries, and countless errors were found – not just of magical nature, but also in chronology. It quickly became clear that the man was a fraud. I hear he's in St Mungos Hospital after a freak accident. It was bound to happen eventually."

Harry had to resist laughing. If only Anacletus knew… Yet the man was now looking at them with incredulity.

"You have no idea of how Britain is viewed by the other magical societies, do you?" asked Anacletus.

Harry shook his head, never having thought about it. Truth be told, before the Quidditch World Cup, he had never thought about the possibility of the wizarding world extending beyond Britain.

"They're not kind about it Harry," warned Sirius. "Got that much when I was hiding in the continent."

"Ever since the war of Grindelwald, Britain is viewed as one of the backwaters of the magical world, alongside Polynesia, central Africa, India, the voodoo communities of America, and quite a few others," declared Corvinus. "And with good reason. No country is a utopia, but what kind of self-respecting government passes something like Dolores Umbridge's anti-werewolf legislation? Of course, a collective of lycanthropes invites savagery by their own nature, and they lack the societal complexity that wizards and vampires possess, but still… nothing that a well-prepared cage of argentallium can't solve."

"You know about argentallium?" asked Vlad, who thought that only slayers and vampires were aware of the material.

"How do you think civilized and captured werewolves are kept in control by the governments?" asked Corvinus. "It's the only way to keep them properly contained during a full moon."

"What about Wolfsbane potion?" asked Sirius.

"Far too difficult to make without mistakes, and its ingredients are far too expensive for worldwide distribution. It's also worth to mention that Aconite is highly toxic, which is enough to cause aversion to any human – lycanthrope or not."

"Back in my day we used copper cages," said Honestus. "Less effective than silver or argentallium, but far cheaper and easier to produce."

"Copper? That has no special properties," said Vlad.

Honestus laughed. "Never said it did. It merely held them in. One of those cages usually lasted at least three full moons, before the copper was melted down and cast into another cage. The alternative was a deep pit."

"Hey! You're chirping like little birds, but I can't understand a pint of what you're saying!" complained Sirius. "Care to translate?"

Anacletus pointed his wand at Sirius, the tip glowing orange and Sirius' eyes becoming unfocused for a few instants before returning to normal.

"What was that?" asked Sirius feeling a small headache.

"A spell my father developed. It grants one temporary mastery over Caligonese Latin," said Anacletus as he put his wand away. "The caster, of course, must know Latin before attempting to cast the spell, otherwise nothing will happen. This will allow you to accompany our conversations."

Sirius was both surprised and impressed.

"Thank you. What were you saying?"

Honestus had now settled down on the balustrade, Anacletus having summoned an armchair while Sirius and Vlad sat in another marble bench.

"Honestus was saying how in his time they used copper cages and deep pits to keep werewolves while transformed," explained Vlad.

"How did you get them out of the pits?" asked Sirius, bewildered by the prospect.

"We used a ladder," said Honestus in a nigh-scandalized tone. "How do you think we got them out of the holes? By filling them with water and hoping they knew how to swim?"

Harry made a sound which seemed a mixture of a groan and a sigh.

"May I ask which school you went to?" he asked Anacletus, being both curious and also wanting to get away from the conversation about pits and werewolves.

"Beauxbatons. All members of the Corvinus family which reside in Europe have done so since the Gymnasium of Marcellus here in the city closed."

"The Gymnasium of Marcellus?" asked Vlad.

Both Harry and Sirius were curious too about this school. Yet it was not Corvinus who answered, but Honestus.

"One of the three rival schools in Caligon," he answered. "It was founded in the beginning of the first century, so it already existed back in my day. It was also the first to close."

It bewildered Harry that Caligon had three schools of magic, when Britain appeared to have only Hogwarts. As far as he knew, of course. He had never heard of any other schools in Britain, so he couldn't really say there were no others. Perhaps Hermione knew about it.

"What were the others?" asked Harry.

"The Gymnasium of Julia and the Gymnasium of Pius," said Honestus. "Rivalries between the schools were quite prominent during the early kingdom, especially since they all tried to curry favour from the curia."

Anacletus nodded. "Quite. Well, to restore the kingdom, you need to bring people here. And to bring people here, you need to make this place more attractive. Thus, I would suggest you begin practicing the Mending charm on the ruins outside, especially the Forum, since that is the heart of the city."

"And the people?"

"Once things are presentable, I can begin to… spread the work, shall I say. There are still quite a few of the old families, some with minor branches who would love the opportunity to rise to relevance by being the first to repopulate the kingdom. The promises of positions in the assemblies would also be a good incentive."

"The assemblies… there are three of them, right?" asked Harry.

"Two. The Assembly of the Tribes, and the Assembly of the Curiae," clarified Anacletus. "Both under the watch of the Senate."

"Restoring the assemblies so soon however, would be counter-productive," warned Honestus. "You need to establish a large enough population in order to properly implement these bodies and having them so soon would likely create an obstacle."

Anacletus was in agreement. "He's right. That has to be kept for later. Until Caligon has a healthy population of wizards, the assemblies and the Senate are out of question."

"I don't want just wizards here."

This declaration had surprised all of them.

"What do you mean?" asked Sirius.

"I'm a vampire too. If everything goes along correctly, I'll be ruling this kingdom until the end of the Earth," said Harry, a bit hesitant to voice his idea. "I'm hoping to create a haven for vampires in Caligon as well… away from the slayers."

Vlad wasn't quite sure of what to make of Harry's idea. It sounded good on paper but executing it would not be that simple. On the other hand, it was a rather attractive prospect. The threat of slayers was always omnipresent, so it would be good to have someplace where they wouldn't find them.

"A kingdom of wizards and vampires… you're an ambitious one, Harry Potter," said Corvinus, a smile on his face. "An adventurous spirit… I like it. However, you do realize this will bring you under the scrutiny of the Vampire High Council, right?"

"Scrutiny? They would not oppose him?" asked Vlad, remembering his past experiences with members of the High Council.

"Not necessarily. Relations between our worlds are quite amiable, as opposed to our relations with… say, the goblins or the hags. However, as far as I know, all vampires are under the Vampire High Council, as opposed to the many states of the wizarding world. They may see the rise of a wizard-vampire kingdom as a threat to their monopoly over vampires."

Harry turned to Vlad, hoping his friend would have any insight on this. "Vlad?"

"You don't need to worry about them," said Vlad. "If they try anything, I'll see if I can keep them in line."

"Keep them I line? How?" asked Anacletus, puzzled how a teenage vampire would be able to keep the Vampire High Council in line.

His question was immediately answered by Harry.

"Vlad's the Grand High Vampire."

Anacletus looked at Vlad with an astonished face, his eyes looking as if they were about to pop out at any moment. He had heard rumours of course, of how the vampire world fell into disarray with the death of the former Grand High Vampire a few years ago, and how the new one had gone missing.

"You are the Grand High Vampire?"

It was not Anacletus who spoke, but Honestus, a graveness in his voice and face that alarmed the others.

"Seems so," said Vlad, not exactly comfortable with having to admit it.

"Can you tell us how you became the Grand High Vampire?" asked Honestus.

Not quite sure the relevance of this, Vlad saw no issue with telling them what had happened, from the arrival of the Grand High Vampire to Stokely Castle, his murder at the hands of Boris – disguised as Justice Moroi – and the subsequent failures to elect a new Grand High Vampire, all who were turned into dust by the Crown of Power. The events that followed were also related, including his donning of the crown of Power at the behest of the Grand High Vampire's spirit, and the mindwipe of all mortals in the castle about vampires.

Honestus had listened silently to Vlad, and Harry through that for a brief moment, he saw the ghost grimace. He couldn't be sure though.

"Why did you want to know?" asked Harry.

"Curiosity," answered Honestus with no hesitation. "I find it strange that someone so young would become the leader of the vampire world. Now, we were speaking of the Vampire High Council, correct?"

Harry nodded, before looking at Anacletus.

"I suppose that we can rule out the Vampire Council as a threat. With the Grand High Vampire supporting you, then the task becomes easier. Yet we still face opposition from the British Ministry, and they will try everything to prevent a reaffirmation of the archipelago's sovereignty," declared Anacletus. "Dumbledore's removal from the International Confederation however, will make our efforts harder there."

"He's been removed?"

Harry could not believe it. How could Dumbledore have been removed from the Confederation?

"Haven't you heard? Since he announced the return of You-Know-Who, the British Ministry has cut ties with Dumbledore. The Wizengamot has voted him out of both the British delegation to the Confederation and out of the Wizengamot itself. Since he is no longer part of the delegation, Dumbledore cannot legally hold the office of Supreme Mugwump. And without him at the helm of the Wizengamot, we have lost greatest ally there."

"What do you suggest then?" asked Sirius.

"I would first suggest you speak with Thomas Uriens, the king of Avalon," said Corvinus. "The kingdoms of Avalon and Caligon have been long allies and they share much history. He holds a great disdain for the British Ministry, not to mention that you two are distant cousins. If you get his support, then it is likely that the Insular League will back you as well. I can also try to pull a few favours here and there in the European ministries."

Harry nodded, but Vlad wasn't quite trusting.

"And what do you get out of this?" asked the vampire. "You aren't doing this out of the kindness of your heart, are you?

There was a sly smile on Corvinus' face.

"I gain many things from a Caligonese restoration, young Dracula," affirmed Corvinus. "I am the Vicar of Pharus, which by itself makes me one of the highest-ranking figures in the kingdom. I have no problem in saying that the renewal of the kingdom would bring both power and wealth to the Corvinus family – wealth and power of a magnitude we haven't experienced in more than a century."

Harry frowned.

"So, you're just doing this for power?"

Corvinus looked at him unimpressed, yet it slowly shifted into a smile.

"The world isn't moved by idleness or empty words. It requires action, and those with the ability to perform said action. Power, be it magical or political, is one of those means."

Vlad almost laughed. "You think you can change the world?" he asked.

"You think you can?"

Vlad's expression froze almost instantly.

Corvinus was aware of the young vampire's own dilemmas – courtesy of his skill in the art of Legilimency, and of a previous conversation with Dumbledore as well. Truly, it was both amusing and pitiful.

"I find it ironic that you Vladimir Dracula, the very antithesis of vampirism, are not only the Chosen One of the vampire race, but also their leader. A single man, against a legion of bloodthirsty beings… how long do you think you can survive before they turn you into dust? You know very well how vampires behave, and what they believe in. Tell me, what will they do when they discover that their leader and saviour desires to fraternize with the food?"

"Get rid of me," he muttered bitterly. "I'm a _breather-lover_ – an anathema."

Harry felt the gaze of Corvinus upon himself. It was as if the man's eyes could see right into his soul, just as Dumbledore sometimes did.

"And Harry? Right now, he is the target of a campaign that will with no doubt destroy his reputation in the British Wizarding World, if not outside. Not to mention he is hunted by one of the most dangerous dark wizards of the last two centuries, and his followers. All because of a prophecy and a botched-up assassination attempt. And yet you are both here – two boys bound by prophecies, each declaring them the saviour of their respective worlds. I don't believe it is coincidence that you were brought to this island together – two children elected by fate, with the power to change both worlds. The framework is in your hands, you just have to develop what you already have. Plato once said a man can be measured by what he does with power – you can measure my actions, just as others will measure yours. What will you do?"

"I can't do any of that alone," Harry said.

Corvinus nodded. "You can't. That is true," he confirmed. "But there is a solution for that."

Harry looked at the man expectantly.

"During the Old Kingdom, there were two periods in which the monarchy was replaced by a duumvirate – two kings ruling simultaneously, each with equal _imperium_ over the kingdom," explained Anacletus. "The first was during the early period of the Pictor-Flamenian dynasty, while the second one was – "

"During the 15th and 16th centuries," interrupted Honestus. "But that's neither here nor there. What Corvinus here is saying, is that you can appoint someone else as your fellow king, easing the burden you have."

Harry's face lit up, as if a little child in front of a present-filled Christmas tree.

"That's brilliant! And I can pick anyone I want?"

Honestus nodded. "It's your throne. You decide what you want to do with it."

"Vlad."

The vampire looked at Harry, thinking that the younger teen wanted to ask something. "What?"

"I'm choosing you. I want you to be the other king."

"Me?"

"I suppose that having Vladimir Dracula as your fellow king makes sense. Since the world of vampires and wizards will mingle here, it is only fitting that the Grand High Vampire would have a hand in it."

Vlad frowned. How exactly was he supposed to handle this? The Count would certainly urge him to go along with it, and so would Zoltan, and had Ingrid been there, she would be fuming with jealousy. What would Robin say though? He would probably get all giddy at the thought of Vlad becoming some sort of vampire king.

"At least I think he would," thought Vlad. "Nah, it's Robin. He would be begging me to accept."

But why would Harry be asking him to do it?

Then again, he was Harry's creator. He was the one that turned him into a vampire, and the signs clearly told him that much like several half-fangs, Harry was loyal to him. Yet that loyalty usually began to dim and gradually cease to exist after a while. And yet after all these months, Harry's loyalty towards him was still evident. Could this be that bond between them taking effect, compelling Harry to give his power in some way to him?

No, of course not. It didn't work like that.

"Harry, you're trusting me with joint rulership over _your_ kingdom? Are you really sure about this?"

Harry simply nodded. "Yeah. I'm trusting you with this, aren't I?"

Trust. Funny word.

It had been what his reflection sought to build up in Harry and did so with impressive efficiency. Of course, trust was not the end that the other Vlad had been seeking, but betrayal. And having his prey basking on it, even if for an instant, was almost like an aphrodisiac.

He hated it. The reflection enjoyed it. But deep down he still harboured the sensation, the pleasure, and the rush.

And it was _good_. Very good.

But it was not supposed to feel good – he was not supposed to remember it as good, but as wrong… depraved… sick. Perhaps he could take solace on these thoughts coming not from him, but from whatever remained of the reflection's twisted personality.

_But you have merged. These thoughts are not of your reflection, but yours… yours alone._

And there it was. That little taunting voice that haunted his thoughts ever since that accursed day. The day he donned that dusty old crown and became not only the Grand High Vampire, but a full vampire before his time. Shame that the good and moral part of his conscience was mute.

But Vlad nodded, first faintly, and then a firm nod.

"Okay. I'll do it."

* * *

 

**_Author's Note:_ **

In the Latin translation of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, _Harrius_ was the name used for Harry. I decided to use it here as well.


	10. REWRITE NOTICE

This version of the plot-bunny has been abandoned. A new one has been posted.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Laurels of Blood (REWRITE)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18058877) by [DarthImperius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthImperius/pseuds/DarthImperius)




End file.
